


A Picture is Worth A Thousand Lies

by mysid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bestiality, Drama, First Time, Friendship, Romance, Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5943889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysid/pseuds/mysid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all pictures reveal the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay attention to the chronology of the story. During this chapter, it’ll jump around in time a bit.

August 1981

Sirius yawned widely as he wrote the final lines of his report about the fruitless all-night surveillance of Leman Borgin. An informant had assured them that Borgin would soon be serving as the middleman in a transaction of great interest to the aurors. Two of his fellow recent recruits had kept on eye on Borgin’s shop all day, and Sirius had taken over when Borgin had retired to his flat over the shop. All night he had sat on the neighbouring rooftop, hidden by James’s invisibility cloak. Borgin had no visitors.

Although he was on call for the remainder of the day, Sirius hoped that he’d be able to slip away from London for a few hours. James and Lily had recently moved again, and Sirius wanted to help them get settled in. They didn’t really need the help—they had become experts at moving—unfortunately—but they did need a friendly face.

“You and James Potter knew Remus Lupin at school, didn’t you?” a gruff voice asked. Sirius looked up at the scowling face of Tireus Prewitt, one of the few old-timers still alive in the auror ranks.

“Yes, he’s a close friend of ours. Why?”

“He doesn’t know the Potters’ new location, does he?”

“Of course he does. He helped me select it for them.”

Prewitt shook his head with the scowl of disgust he saved for new recruits who had done something particularly foolhardy. Sirius was reasonably certain that he knew what this was about. A werewolf had recently killed a Ministry official. He had boasted of his loyalty to Voldemort just before he attacked the arresting security guards and was killed by them in self-defence. In the aftermath of this event, all werewolves were being viewed with even more suspicion than before. Sirius guessed that Prewitt had just learned that Remus was a werewolf.

Sirius scowled right back. “There’s nothing about Remus that we don’t already know, and we trust him implicitly.”

“Really? Do you know the sort of company he’s been keeping lately?” Prewitt dropped a thick file on Sirius’s desk and walked away. The contents of the folder, glossy photographs, had slipped out slightly when the folder landed on the desk, but all Sirius could see of the uppermost photograph was someone’s sleeve. Almost against his will, Sirius flipped the folder open to see that the sleeve did indeed belong to Remus. The other two men in the photograph were just as familiar: Alex Vraci, one of Sirius’s second cousins, and Lucius Malfoy, the husband of Sirius’s cousin Narcissa. Malfoy was one of those wizards who the aurors were certain was a Death Eater, but were unable to prove it. Vraci was one they were less certain of. As Sirius watched, Malfoy extended his hand to Remus, but Remus refused to shake it.

 _“That’s our Moony,”_ Sirius thought with a smile. If this was the worst Prewitt had to show, this file wasn’t very incriminating at all. The next photo was of Remus speaking alone to Vraci, but in the same location and in the same clothes as the other photo. Again, it didn’t bother Sirius. Vraci had been a Ravenclaw at school, and in Sirius’s experience, those of his relatives who ended up in Ravenclaw were a much nicer group of people than his relatives in Slytherin.

The next few photographs were of Remus visiting two different homes. Labels on the backs of the photos identified them as the residences of Hugo Davis and his daughter, Aisher Davis Nott. Hugo’s son, Statham Davis, had recently been sent to Azkaban.

 _“Father of a Death Eater and sister of a Death Eater,”_ Sirius thought. _“Thanks to Regulus, I’d fit into that category just as well. I wonder if the next photo will be Remus with me.”_

Instead, the next photographs showed Remus with Aidan Howes. The first two photos seemed to have been taken by security cameras in the Ministry of Magic. The next photo showed Remus and Howes eating a meal together at the Leaky Cauldron. Howes was the now deceased werewolf who had recently stirred up so much trouble for all werewolves. Sirius, worried about new restrictions being placed on werewolves, had ranted and raved to Remus about what a “selfish bastard” Howes had been. Remus had never mentioned a word about knowing the man.

Sirius quickly flipped through several more photos of Remus with various people and stopped at one of Remus in Knockturn Alley. He saw Severus Snape coming toward Remus from behind. He felt an irrational temptation to warn the photographic Remus to be on guard. As he watched, Snape said something to Remus, Remus turned to face him, and Snape handed Remus a booklet or perhaps a folded sheaf of papers. Remus glanced at the papers and then slipped them into his pocket as Snape walked away and out of the frame. Remus went back to looking in a shop window and the scene began to repeat. 

“Let me see the title, Remus,” Sirius asked as Remus took the booklet. In most wizarding photos, the people within the photograph will interact to a limited extent with the person gazing at the photograph. However, when the photo is taken candidly, without the awareness of the subject—as all of these surveillance photos were—the people within the photograph remain oblivious to the world outside the two-dimensional world they inhabit. The photographic Remus ignored Sirius’s request and slipped the booklet into his pocket again. 

If the photo had been of Remus with anyone else—even Lucius Malfoy or Statham Davis—Sirius would have dismissed it. There were dozens of innocent explanations possible for such an exchange. What Sirius couldn’t get past was the fact that it was Severus Snape. Snape both hated and feared Remus, and had avoided him throughout seventh year. Sirius couldn’t think of any reason that Snape would willingly approach Remus and give something to him. Or rather, Sirius could think of only one reason—Snape had been ordered to do so.

Sirius turned to the next photo, hoping for a less troubling scene. Remus was with Alex Vraci again, sitting on a park bench. Both men were wearing Muggle clothes, and Sirius smiled. Muggle clothes were not uncommon for Remus, but they were almost unheard of for a Death Eater. Sirius considered it a point in Vraci’s favour. Vraci glanced around as if checking to see if anyone were observing them. For a moment, Vraci looked directly at Sirius, and Sirius thought he may have seen the hidden photographer. Then Vraci began to kiss Remus, and Remus rather seemed to enjoy it. 

Sirius stared in amazement. Sirius had never known, had never suspected that Remus was gay. Perhaps he didn’t know everything about Remus after all.

 

Spring and Summer 1981

Remus paid for his beer and then turned to check out the crowd. _Chester’s_ was crowded tonight—a good night for hunting. Men with dark hair, men with fair, tall men, shorter men, some muscular, some thin. No matter what he was looking for—as long as he was looking for only one night—he could find it here. 

A part of Remus despised himself for taking part in this scene on a regular basis. He felt guilty every time that he went home with someone knowing that he had no interest beyond the one night. He couldn’t help but feel that he was using these men. Then morning would come and they were glad to be rid of him. The “using” was mutual.

He felt that he had no choice. The full moon was only three days away, and the wolf wanted to mate—badly. It was either find a willing partner at a meat market like _Chester’s_ , or Padfoot would get a nasty surprise soon after moonrise. Remus would never be able to face Sirius again if the wolf tried that. Of course, he probably wouldn’t need to face Sirius again as Sirius would undoubtedly hex him into oblivion. No matter how badly the wolf injured Padfoot, Sirius never resented it. Sex, however, was another matter entirely. And given how attracted Remus was to Sirius—his ultimate deep, dark secret—each new full moon made Remus more terrified that this was the month the wolf would attempt something unforgivable and he’d lose his friend forever. 

A man with glossy dark hair caught his eye. The man had been watching him and smiled. Remus realized with a start that he knew him—Alex Vraci. Vraci had been a Ravenclaw two years ahead of him at school. He was also Sirius’s second-cousin and James’s fourth-cousin, or perhaps the other way around. Vraci motioned for Remus to join him at his table. 

“Remus, isn’t it? I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew from school here.”

“Well, since ‘wizard’ and ‘openly-gay’ are unimaginable in the same sentence, we’re forced to visit Muggle places like this to meet people.”

“True. You’re looking good, Remus. I guess being out of school agrees with you.”

Remus laughed slightly. “The last time you saw me, I was fifteen and awkward. I _hope_ I look better now. You look good. I like your hair that length.” The last time Remus had seen him, Alex’s hair had been cut short, but was now shoulder-length like Sirius’s. It set off his dark eyes and high cheekbones—Sirius’s cheekbones. _“Sirius’s second-cousin, definitely,”_ Remus thought.

Alex finished off his drink. “I can either order another round for us, and we can make pointless small talk until you agree to come home with me—or we can cut through all that and go home now.”

Remus smiled. Not only did Alex resemble Sirius physically, but he had the same self-confidence and bravado as well. “Let’s go,” he said.

Thanks to Alex’s talent in guided apparition, the two men were very soon at the doorway of his flat. As Alex unlocked the door with the brass numeral “2” on the door, he said, “My landlady lives on the ground floor. She’s a Muggle, but she’s not nosy. As long as I’m a quiet tenant, she doesn’t care what goes on up here. She commented on the apparent increase in the number of the owls in the area, but she doesn’t seem to associate them with me.”

The wall directly opposite the door had a large fireplace flanked on either side by built in bookcases. Both bookcases held a sizable number of books. Remus smiled to himself; Alex was certainly true to the Ravenclaw reputation.

“I can see what drew you to this flat,” Remus said with a gesture to the fireplace and bookcases.

“It was difficult to find one I could afford _and_ that had a fireplace,” Alex admitted. “Do you want a drink? I have beer and firewhiskey.” He was already on his way toward what seemed to be the kitchen doorway.

“Beer, thanks,” Remus said as he tailed behind. The kitchen was small, so Remus stayed just outside the door and looked out the large picture window instead. Alex’s neighbourhood was built on a hillside, and as his side of the street was higher than the other, Remus had a perfect view of all the lights of the town. “Where are we?” he asked when Alex returned carrying a beer and a very strong drink of firewhiskey for himself.

“Wimbledon.” 

“The view’s nice.”

“Hmm,” Alex nodded. “Houses and Muggle shops. It’s nicer at night, I suppose.” He took a seat on the sofa just under the window. When Remus sat beside him, Alex backed away from him just slightly. “So what are you doing these days, Remus? I seem to remember that you weren’t one of the idle rich like some of our lucky friends.”

Remus explained about the freelance work he was doing setting up wards and protective spells on people’s homes and businesses, and then asked appropriate questions about the work Alex was doing in the in-house Potions Department of St. Mungo’s. He was a bit surprised by Alex’s sudden interest in “small talk” after his stated interest in avoiding all that at _Chester’s_. However, he didn’t mind. Between his friends being busy with their own professions and with the need to protect Harry, opportunities for simple conversation had been too few of late. He needed an evening of conversation almost as much as he needed a shag.

When Alex had finished his second tall glass of firewhiskey and had avoided touching even Remus’s hand, Remus decided that as pleasant as the evening had been, it was probably not going to end the way he needed it to. If he went back to _Chester’s_ soon, there was still time to find someone. If not someone interested in all night, then someone who wanted it quick and rough against an alley wall would do.

“It’s getting late, Alex,” Remus said as he stood up. “Maybe I should go.”

“No!” Alex jumped up from the sofa and clutched at Remus’s sleeve. “No, you have to stay. Please?” He slid his hand down Remus’s arm and took his hand. He looked beseechingly at Remus and began to pull him toward the opposite end of the room and the bedroom doorway. 

Candles lit themselves as they entered the room, but Alex immediately extinguished them all with a wave of his hand. He pushed the door closed as well, and the room was lost in almost complete darkness. Remus’s eyes quickly adjusted to the light coming in from the one window. Alex kissed him, hesitantly at first, but as Remus began to kiss back, they soon lost themselves in the warm, wet sensations. Alex tasted of firewhiskey, and when he swayed dangerously for a moment, Remus thought it prudent to steer him back to the bed.

Alex fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. “Let me,” Remus said. He rid them both of their shirts while continuing to kiss Alex. He bestowed one last lick on one of Alex’s highly sculpted cheekbones before turning his attention to removing the rest of Alex’s clothing. As he licked a long slick path up the inside of Alex’s thigh, he heard Alex moan for the first time and smiled. Remus tended to be silent during sex, but he loved to hear the sounds made by his partners. He licked Alex’s other thigh, ending teasingly close to Alex’s balls, and Alex’s cock gave an involuntary little jump. Remus began to shed his own trousers. Alex pushed himself back farther on the bed and watched Remus. 

“Oh god,” Alex said despairingly and let his head fall back with his eyes closed.

Remus lay down on his side beside him and stroked Alex’s slightly stubbled cheek. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I have no earthly clue what I’m doing,” Alex confessed. “I’ve never—with a man before.”

Remus was only slightly surprised. Sexual mores of the wizarding world were very conservative. It wasn’t uncommon for homosexual wizards and witches to remain closeted their entire lives, sometimes denying it even to themselves. 

“It’s all right. I have enough experience for both of us,” Remus replied as he nuzzled his nose in Alex’s hair. He didn’t smell even remotely like Sirius, but his hair felt and looked the same. “But only if you still want to.” He stroked his hand across Alex’s lightly furred chest and down his belly, hoping to encourage Alex’s assent. He was surprised to feel that Alex was no longer as aroused as he had been just moments earlier. He looked at Alex inquiringly, waiting for his decision.

Alex glanced down at his wilted erection and smiled slightly. “What did Shakespeare say about whiskey? ‘Adds to the desire, but takes away from the performance?’” 

Remus nodded. “One of Sirius’s favourite quotations.”

“Just fuck me, Remus.”

Remus didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed one of the pillows from the head of the bed—“Roll over. It’ll be easier this way your first time,”—and tucked the pillow under Alex’s lower belly. He grabbed a second pillow as well and pushed it under Alex as he pulled his hips upward. Given the amount Alex had to drink, Remus didn’t think he’d be able to stay on his knees without help. 

Remus resumed licking, kissing, and nibbling at Alex’s thighs. Remus loved to taste and smell his lovers, and Alex had seemed to enjoy it before. Remus hoped to inspire Alex to arousal again. Alex began to breathe more heavily; his breath catching occasionally and releasing again with little pants. The sounds told Remus that he was succeeding. When Remus’s tongue strayed upward from Alex’s balls to the cleft of his arse, Alex tensed.

“I won’t hurt you,” Remus murmured. With his hands, he stroked down Alex’s back, pausing to massage his ass a little bit longer each time. As he gently pulled the cheeks of Alex’s arse apart just slightly, he licked again. Alex didn’t tense this time. 

Remus continued his ministrations long enough that Alex began to push back against him as if wanting more, and Remus realized that he couldn’t wait much longer himself. If Alex had any lubricant in his bedroom, he didn’t mention it, but Remus had gone to _Chester’s_ prepared. He shifted around on the bed and fumbled through the discarded clothing for his trousers and the tube in one of the pockets.

Alex tensed again and looked over his shoulder when Remus first touched him with a lubricated finger. “I won’t hurt you,” Remus assured him again. Alex nodded, closed his eyes, and tried to relax. Despite his promises, Remus hurried to lubricate and stretch Alex as quickly as possible. He could feel his control slipping away with every moment. Only three nights before the full moon was not the ideal time for slow, careful lovemaking. Tonight was a night to fuck.

Remus pushed his cock against the puckered opening, and endured that agonizing moment when it just seemed impossible that he would ever fit inside. Alex tensed with anxiety again. Remus couldn’t speak to offer reassurance this time. His hands were on Alex’s hips. He shifted his hands just enough to press the cheeks of Alex’s arse back apart as he pushed in. 

Alex gasped at the unfamiliar sensation, and there was a note of pain in the sound. Remus held still and kissed his lover’s back in repentance. Then, unable to wait any more, he began to stroke in and out. Alex whimpered again, but not in pain. Remus reached between his lover’s belly and the pillows. He began to stroke the semi-erect penis in time to his own thrusts. When Alex moaned, it sent Remus over the edge.

He lay across Alex’s back for a few moments, too spent to move, and then he rolled them both over onto their sides so he wouldn’t crush the other man. As they rolled, Remus was careful not to pull out. He liked to remain inside his lovers as long as he possibly could. He knew that it was “one of those wolf things” as his friends put it, but it was one he didn’t mind. He resumed stroking Alex, but Alex stilled his hand and shook his head slightly.

Remus nuzzled the glossy black hair again even as he began to feel waves of guilt. Tonight wasn’t the first time he’d chosen a lover simply because the man had a physical resemblance to Sirius. He’d always told himself that the resemblances were simply because that was “his type.” The fact that he’d fantasize that the men were Sirius, that was explained away—partially—as being due to the fact that the men were strangers and he wanted a more familiar face. But he’d done it again tonight. Alex wasn’t a stranger, yet Remus had allowed himself to fantasize that the face hidden by the long black hair was Sirius’s face rather than Alex’s. It wasn’t fair to Sirius, and it wasn’t fair to Alex.

“I’m sorry,” Remus whispered. “I did hurt you.”

“No,” Alex assured him. “That was—nicer than I expected it to be.” He tried to turn around, but Remus tightened the arm he had around Alex’s hips.

“No, don’t move yet. I like to stay like this.” 

“All right.” 

As he lay with his arm around Alex, Remus realized that he wanted to see him again. He had genuinely enjoyed spending the evening talking with Alex, and he suspected that he could learn to make love to Alex rather than pretend that Alex was someone else. But whether Alex would want to see him again, he didn’t dare ask. After all, initiating a long-term relationship—especially with a wizard—was undoubtedly a stupid thing to do. If Alex were ever to find out that he was a werewolf, the chances of Alex ever wanting to see him again were somewhere between slim and none.

* * * * *

Remus was pleasantly surprised when he ran into Alex just two days later in Diagon Alley. Alex was just coming out of Flourish and Blotts with a large parcel wrapped in paper and string. 

“You’re going to fill up those bookcases pretty quickly if you aren’t careful, Alex.”

“That’s what bookcases are for, isn’t it?” Alex replied with a smile. “Besides, only one of these is for me. The other is the latest in the _Dragon Keeper_ series. It’s a birthday present for my niece.”

“And how old is little Venetia going to be?” asked a voice just behind Remus. Remus whirled in surprise, his hand already on the wand in his pocket. It wasn’t often that someone could catch him unawares like that, and he disliked being startled in that manner. Lucius Malfoy smiled in amusement. “I’m sorry. Did I interrupt a private conversation?”

“Not at all,” Alex said calmly. “Lucius, this is my friend Remus Lupin. Remus, this is Lucius Malfoy, one of my cousins.”

Remus nodded slightly in recognition. He remembered Malfoy from Hogwarts. Malfoy had been several years ahead of him, but he had been one of those students who deliberately stood out. 

Malfoy extended a hand to him. “Yes, I remember you, Lupin. You’re a friend of Narcissa’s wayward cousin Sirius.” Remus did not shake Malfoy’s hand. Between rumours of Malfoy’s involvement in Voldemort’s inner circle, and better-substantiated stories that Sirius had shared about Malfoy, Remus knew that he wanted nothing to do with this man. Malfoy seemed only slightly bothered by Remus’s snub. “As foolish as your friends, I see.” Malfoy smiled instead at Alex. “Your mother is well, I trust?”

“Yes, she’s feeling much better, thank you.”

“Good. Please tell her that I enquired after her. Good-bye, Alex. Lupin.”

“I’ve got to run, Remus,” Alex said as soon as Malfoy began to walk away. “I spent all of my lunch break browsing in the bookstore. I’ll send you an owl.”

“Bye,” Remus replied, but he wasn’t sure if Alex heard him. Alex had already hurried into the crowd of lunchtime shoppers. It didn’t matter. Remus knew that “I’ll send you an owl” was probably just thinly veiled code words for “once was nice, but let’s not do that again.” He wasn’t surprised. The morning after their night together, Alex had bolted out of bed as soon as he was awake. They had had breakfast together before Remus left and Alex went to work, but the mood had kept veering unexpectedly between friendly and awkward. 

Remus resigned himself to the fact that it had probably been yet another one-night-stand, and resumed on his way toward the little café where he was meeting Peter for lunch. He had been a bit surprised by the timing of Peter’s invitation. After all, tomorrow night was the full moon, and he would be seeing Peter at the Potters’. But, Peter had asked him to meet him in Diagon Alley, and not being overly burdened with work at the moment, Remus had agreed.

* * * * *

One of the indignities and irritations of the current werewolf regulations was the need to drop at a moment’s notice whatever plans he might happen to have, and appear at the Werewolf Registry Office to answer any questions they deemed suitable. As it turned out, Remus did have plans. He had an appointment with a witch about ridding her house of a boggart and then setting up protective wards around her house. He had sent an owl to reschedule and hoped she wouldn’t be too angry. He had done similar work for her father just last week and had gotten the job through his recommendation, so he hoped that would be good enough to make her accept the delay. 

Nevertheless, his irritation at the imperious summons only made him resent the intrusive questions even more. Where was his current residence? A dingy little bed-sit, and here’s the address. Where did he spend the nights of the full moon? Officially, in the cellar of Peter’s house—unofficially, wherever was convenient for James. Place of employment? He worked freelance. Who were his current sexual partners? As far as the Werewolf Registry knew, he was still a virgin. Had he ever bitten someone? The answer was still, “No.” Had he ever attacked someone? The answer was still, “Yes, and you already have the full details in your files.” But that answer was never good enough, and he was forced to recount in detail, _again_ , how he had once almost killed Severus Snape and James Potter. 

He may have made the mistake of allowing his irritation to show through, for when he was done, the interviewer deemed it necessary to summon a co-worker into the room and order Remus to strip and be examined for any new identifying marks or scars.

When the ordeal was finally over, Remus was very, very glad that he had asked Mrs. Nott to reschedule for the following day rather than later today. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to be civil, let alone solicitous. He nearly growled when someone grabbed him by the arm and said, “Wait a moment,” just after he left the Registry Office.

“Go away,” was the politest comment he could muster.

“Sorry,” the other man said as he released Remus’s arm. “It’s just that you look like they gave you as hard a time in there as they did me. I could really use a drink about now, I hate to drink alone, and you look like you need one too.” He waited a moment for Remus’s reply, and when none was immediately forthcoming, he added, “Do a fellow werewolf a favour and have a drink with me. Misery loves company, right?”

“Right. Name’s Remus Lupin.”

“Aidan Howes. Nice to meet you, Remus.”

 

Aidan had suggested a pub in Knockturn Alley, but Remus wanted to get something to eat as well. They both agreed that the food in the Leaky Cauldron was less questionable. Remus, feeling flush with his pay from Hugo Davis, treated his new companion to a meal.

After they both complained about their least favourite people in various werewolf-related departments, and about the regulations in general, Aidan took a slightly new tack.

“You know what irks me most about those bloody regulations,” Aidan said in a low voice to avoid any possibility being overheard, “is that they don’t distinguish in any way between fully trained wizards and witches who happen to have become werewolves, and Muggle werewolves.”

“We have more autonomy about where we spend the full moon,” Remus pointed out.

Aidan dismissed it with a shake of his head. “That’s just because they know we can do locking spells and silencing charms. But what about the rest of the month? They treat us like dangerous animals.”

“They treat all werewolves like dangerous animals,” Remus agreed bitterly.

“Exactly, but _we_ aren’t. I’ll grant you that Muggle werewolves may be little better than that, but it’s not their fault. They just can’t understand or control the magic within themselves, so it controls them. But _us_ , we’re different. _We_ can control the magic. We’re stronger because of it. Don’t you agree?”

Remus disliked the new turn the conversation had taken. This was the familiar “Wizards are superior to Muggles” rubbish merely overlaid with werewolf rights overtones. 

“All werewolves can control their wolf instincts, if they try hard enough,” Remus replied.

“But we can channel it and _use_ it,” Aidan continued. He shifted forward in his seat and stared at Remus intently. “Haven’t you noticed that you’ve become better at _certain types_ of magic since you were bitten? We can make this into a gift instead of a curse— _if_ we’re shown how. But with those currently in charge trying to hold us back, we’ll be prevented from making the most of the gift we’ve been given.”

Remus had been uncomfortable with the conversation before; now he was anxious to leave. This was starting to sound undeniably like he was being recruited to join with Voldemort and overthrow the Ministry. “I don’t think—”

“Only a fool sides with those who oppress him,” Aidan stated as he sat back in his seat and folded his arms.

“Only a traitor sides with those who want to kill his friends,” Remus replied. He stood to leave but Aidan grabbed him by the arm.

“Our meeting today wasn’t really by accident, Lupin. Think about what I’ve said.” Remus wrenched his arm away and strode out angrily. 

His first instinct was to tell Sirius all about the exchange and warn him that Aidan Howes was someone to be watched. However, between his auror duties and spending every free moment trying to ensure the safety of James and his family, Sirius didn’t have time to add “keeping an eye on” an angry werewolf to his already lengthy list of responsibilities. 

Remus considered speaking with one of Sirius’s fellow aurors instead, and dismissed the thought just as quickly. Perhaps Howes was a Death Eater, or perhaps Howes was just a disgruntled werewolf who wanted to complain about the Ministry to someone he thought would be a sympathetic ear. Although Remus had felt like it was the former, now that he went over in his mind everything Howes had said, the latter interpretation was just as likely. And if Howes had merely been expressing his frustrations after a particularly bad morning in the Werewolf Registry Office, Remus didn’t want to be the one to get him in more trouble. With the exception of Sirius, aurors weren’t willing to give a werewolf the benefit of a doubt.

And, the truth be told, Remus was deeply embarrassed that Howes had approached him. Remus had no love lost for the Ministry, and that resentment left him vulnerable to recruitment attempts like this one. Howes had seen it. Aurors would as well. If he did go to them about his conversation with Howes, he would likely find himself under as much suspicion as Howes himself. Aurors weren’t willing to give a werewolf the benefit of a doubt. 

He didn’t even want to tell Sirius. He could vividly remember the evening when James told them all of Dumbledore’s suspicions that someone close to James and Lily was passing on information. Sirius’s eyes had flickered to Remus for just a fraction of a second before Sirius very deliberately looked down at the carpet. Sirius had said, “Maybe you should cut off all contact with all three of us. It’ll be safer for you.” James had refused and insisted that there was some other explanation for the leaks. Sirius had agreed, but he had also avoided looking at Remus for the rest of the evening. How much would it really take to make Sirius mistrust him?

* * * * *

It would have been very easy to ignore the silver platter in the silversmith’s window. The other objects, rings with sharpened prongs to deliver a poisoned scratch, biting boxes, and necklaces that would strangle the wearer, all deserved a place in the Knockturn Alley shop. But the platter had no apparent sinister value. It didn’t even have a serpent design to appeal to a proud Slytherin alumnus. What it did have was an intricate design resembling a Celtic knot or a labyrinth. Something about the design was familiar, perhaps from Charms class, but Remus couldn’t place it. 

“Don’t bother buying a silver dagger if you want to commit suicide, Lupin. I’ll be pleased to loan you the one I carry.”

“Hello, Severus,” Remus said as he turned to face his former classmate.

“I’m glad I ran into you. I happened to read about a new potion and thought you might find it interesting.” Snape held out the slim quarterly journal of the Potionbrewer’s Guild. “Perhaps you’ll do us all a favour and volunteer to test it.”

Remus accepted the journal but refrained from thanking Snape. The other wizard’s cold smile revealed that this was not meant as a friendly gesture. 

As Snape walked away, Remus looked at the design on the platter one last time. He decided to sketch it and show it to Lily. She’d appreciate a little mystery to solve. She often complained that living with “two children” was turning her brain into mush.

It wasn’t until much later that Remus decided to look through the journal. A brief article described that a researcher in Germany had created a potion that caused a werewolf to remain docile through the entire night of a full moon. However, all subsequent attempts to duplicate the results had failed, and the test subjects had all died from the toxic potions.

* * * * *

Although their monthly “pub crawls” now consisted of crawling around on the floor with Harry and then staying up late drinking at the Potters’ home instead, the four friends refused to give up their new moon week tradition. 

Remus had been tempted to skip this month as he didn’t think he’d be pleasant company, but in the end, he arrived late enough that he’d miss dinner with Lily and Harry and could go straight into the drinking afterward. By universal consent, only one or two of them were permitted to drink to excess on any given night. The others were required to be the responsible ones—just in case. Remus knew which category he’d be in tonight. When he poured himself a whiskey immediately after arriving and while the others were still eating dessert, his friends knew too.

“Why, Mrs. Potter, look at the irresponsible behaviour your fellow Prefect is displaying—drinking on an empty stomach.”

“Shut up, Wormtail. I had a bad day.”

“Then maybe you should have stayed home,” Sirius said in a sing-song voice appropriate to the action of bouncing Harry on his knee. “Things are tense enough here already, aren’t they, Harry?”

“Fine,” Remus bit out. He downed the rest of the glass and stood to leave, but James put a hand on his arm.

“Uhn-uh. I don’t want any of you to think you have to be in good mood to come see us. Hell, if you guys only visit when things are going great, I might never see you. Sit down, Remus.”

“Yeah, Remus, I was only kidding,” Sirius added, although they all knew he hadn’t been.

Lily diplomatically picked up the thread of the conversation they had been having before Remus’s arrival. Remus felt himself beginning to relax as he watched Sirius play with Harry and a toy griffin. Harry stood up in Sirius’s lap and pulled his godfather’s hair in an attempt to keep his balance.

“Ow! Careful, kid. I know that you and Daddy are jealous of my gorgeous hair, but yanking mine out isn’t the way to go.” The mention of Sirius’s hair made Remus decide that he wanted a second drink.

“Tell us about your bad day, Moony,” James said as Remus reached for the bottle. 

Remus shook his head. “Rather not.”

“Maybe he needs to get laid,” Sirius said.

“Are you offering, Padfoot?” Remus asked as he sat back in his chair with his refilled glass. James chuckled, and Peter began to cough.

“Wrong gender, remember?” Sirius said. “So how long has it been?”

“Night before last, actually.”

“Really? Then I’m the one who deserves to be in foul mood. It’s been so long since I’ve had time to date that I may have to buy a Valentine’s Day card for my hand.”

“And _that’s_ our cue to disappear upstairs,” Lily said as she held out her hands to Harry. 

“I’ll carry him up,” Sirius said as he rose from the table. “C’mon, Bambi, time for pyjamas.”

“Don’t call him that!” James called after them. James shook his head and finished off the beer in the glass he’d had with dinner. “O.K., Moony. So, your love life is fine. What _is_ wrong?”

Remus sighed and put down the glass. Maybe he didn’t want to get drunk after all. Drunks tended to say things that they shouldn’t. “Number one at the top of the list _is_ my love life, actually. I got dumped today.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Moony.”

“Me too,” Peter added. “I didn’t know you’d been seeing someone.”

“Yeah, off and on for about three and a half months now.”

James and Peter were both silent for a moment, and then James asked what they were both probably wondering, “Did she find out that you’re a werewolf?”

Remus shook his head. “Let’s just say I’m less than socially acceptable in other ways too.”

The toy griffin suddenly zoomed off the table and out the door toward the stairs. A crashing sound indicated that it did not have an uneventful journey to Harry’s bedroom.

“Oops,” James said as pulled out his wand and hurried after the toy to repair the damage.

“Were you in love with him, Moony?” Peter asked quietly.

Remus thought for a moment and then shook his head. “No, I liked him, but— I guess I just don’t like _how_ I got dumped. I opened up the _Daily Prophet_ today and read, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Powys Parkinson announce the engagement of their daughter Lucinda to Mr. Alexander Vraci.’”

“Ouch. And he didn’t tell you the other night?”

Remus shook his head. “Not a word. I guess I was just someone to experiment with before he settled down and married a nice socially acceptable witch.”

“Or maybe he doesn’t consider it over,” Peter pointed out. “You know, in public he’ll be the respectable family man, but in secret—”

“I consider it over,” Remus said firmly.

“I know, but—” Peter bit his lip nervously and then suddenly smiled. “Alex Vraci? Interesting. Doesn’t he look a lot like Sirius?”

“Shut up,” Remus said smiling in spite of himself.

“You are _so_ predictable. It’s really amazing that Sirius and James are still oblivious.”

“If you tell them—”

“I know, I know, rat tartare.”

 

Early Spring 1981

“I’m disappointed, Pettigrew.”

Peter gasped in fear as he whirled around to face the voice coming from the shadows beside the dark fireplace. “My Lord,” he choked out. He dropped down onto one knee and bowed low. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Once again I have sent someone I _can_ rely upon to the address you have given me, only to receive a report that the Potters no longer reside there.”

“They keep moving, My Lord.”

“Obviously. It is your responsibility to learn where they are _currently_ living—not where they were yesterday. Either you are incompetent, or you are playing me false, Pettigrew. Perhaps you are warning your friends to move before you give me their location.”’

“My Lord, I wouldn’t dare.” Peter glanced up as he said this, for he knew that this at least was true. To warn his friends would risk revealing that he knew more information about the danger they were in than he should have known. However, the Dark Lord’s guess was close to the truth. Peter was delaying passing on information to the Dark Lord until he knew that the Potters had either recently moved or were about to do so. He looked down at the ground again and said, “They’re just being extremely cautious right now. Even I am not always informed where they are living.”

“If you have earned their mistrust and cannot learn the information I need, perhaps you have outlived your usefulness to me.”

“No, My Lord, _please_. Give me another chance. I haven’t made any mistakes. They still trust me. It’s just that there are so few of us who have known all of the Potters’ moves. I’m automatically suspect simply because I’m one of the few.”

Lord Voldemort did not immediately respond. Peter waited, paralyzed with fear. “You need a scapegoat to draw suspicion away from you. Which would be more suitable, Black or Lupin?”

“Potter will never suspect Black,” Peter replied as he dared to look up again. “They’re too close.”

“Lupin then. Tell me everything you know about him.”

 

August 1981

Sirius knocked on the backdoor of the Potters’ current residence. The wards they had put on the house were designed to keep out _anyone_ unless they were invited in. Sirius had only gotten as close to the house as he had because he was a friend.

“Coming!” James’s voice called from somewhere nearby. Through the window of the door, Sirius saw James appear in the kitchen a moment later, one hand carrying his wand and the other trying to brush something out of his hair.

“It’s just me, Prongs,” Sirius called through the door. Although the various locks and wards released quickly for James, the wait still seemed too long to Sirius. _“They might have trouble getting out quickly if they need to. I wish I could ask Remus to simplify that. Damn.”_

“Come on in, Padfoot,” James said as he opened the door at last.

“Where are Lily and our future Quidditch star?”

“Upstairs having a bath. We did some gardening this morning, and Harry rediscovered the joys of mud. Do you want a cup of tea or something?” James asked as he began to fill a teapot with water.

“Thanks.” Sirius pulled a cobweb out of James’s hair as he went past. “Nice new look for you.”

“I’m evicting the spiders from the cupboard under the stairs.” James heated the water with a tap of his wand and sprinkled in some tea leaves. “I saved the cobwebs. We have enough to make at least three batches of that healing potion for Remus’s injuries.”

“Good.”

“Now we can get those unpacked boxes out of the living room and put them under the stairs instead.”

“I don’t think you should get too comfortable here, James,” Sirius said.

James nodded, resigned to moving yet again. “I thought it might be something like that when you said you were on your way over. How soon do we need to move? Remus planned to put some more wards on the next house in a few days, but I’m sure he could do it sooner if—”

“I don’t think you should go there either,” Sirius interrupted. “In fact, we’d better pick somewhere that Remus doesn’t know about.” He placed the file on the kitchen table in front of James.

 

_—Written January 2004_

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While visiting England, a friend and I once stayed in Wimbledon in the flat of “a friend of a friend.” My description of Alex’s flat is based on her flat. 
> 
> “Vraci” is Romanian for wizard.


	2. Lies

August 1981

“Padfoot, what are you doing here today?” Remus asked in surprise when he opened the door to an unexpected friend. “Sorry, come in.”

Sirius only glanced into Remus’s eyes for a moment as he walked past him. He wandered to the foot of Remus’s bed and ran a palm over one of the iron knobs on the bedstead. Remus began to dread whatever news his strangely silent friend had brought.

“Are James and his family all right?”

“Fine,” Sirius said in a voice that was high and tight. He cleared his throat. “Actually, I came to tell you that they’ve moved again.”

“Already? Damn.” Remus reached under his bed for his shoes and then sat upon the bed to put them on. “I have two more wards I want to put on the new house. I was waiting for the new moon to make them stronger, but I’ll go—” 

“No. They didn’t go to that house,” Sirius said. 

Remus looked up expectantly, waiting for Sirius to tell him where they had gone instead. The silence told him all that Sirius needed to say. Remus had feared—had known—that this day was coming. Now it was here, and with it came the realization that he would not see them again until the day came that they were completely safe. He realized that he might never see his friends again. 

Sirius watched him until he was certain that Remus understood, then he turned his head and looked out the widow. Remus sat there, one shoe on and the other still in his hand. He didn’t know whether to continue putting the shoe on—he had nowhere to go—or if he should take the first back off. Some part of his mind screamed at him for even wondering such a stupid and mundane question when his entire world was crashing down around him.

“Kiss Lily and Harry good-bye for me,” Remus said at last. 

Sirius nodded. 

“And tell Prongs—” Remus closed his eyes. There was too much to say. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for becoming an animagus and allowing me to feel the forest floor under my paws. Thank you for saving me by saving Snape. Thank you for allowing me to hold your newborn son. Thank you for trusting me, for trusting a werewolf, as long as you did. Thank you for being my friend. “Just tell him I said, ‘Thank you.’”

Sirius flinched. “I have to go.” He walked out without looking at Remus again.

June 1995

Remus drank a gulp of the after-dinner firewhiskey and blinked away the tears that sprang into his eyes. “Ooh—I forgot how this stuff burns. Do you actually _like_ this?”

Sirius had finished his drink and was already refilling the glass. “No, but it makes the thought of living here more bearable.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Remus said as he gazed around at the kitchen they had spent two days cleaning. “New curtains, a coat of fresh paint, a catastrophic fire that burns this place to the ground, and it’ll be downright cosy.”

Sirius laughed. “You are so right. If we didn’t need a safe place for Harry to live—fwoosh! Bonfire.” The imagined flames almost danced in Sirius’s eyes as he looked around the room smiling.

“I missed you, Padfoot,” Remus stated.

Sirius looked back still smiling. “I missed you too, Moony.”

Remus was tempted to ask the question he’d been putting off for a year, “Why did you suspect me?” He didn’t want to ask while Sirius was in one of his depressive moods of self-recrimination, so this seemed like a good opportunity. However, he knew the question would instantly destroy this rare good mood, so he held his tongue—again. 

Sirius emptied his glass again, but he did not refill it. Instead, he stared at the glass and toyed with it between his fingers.

“Whatever happened to Alex Vraci?” Sirius asked suddenly.

“Vraci? He’s dead.”

Sirius looked up sharply. There was something almost wary in his eyes as he asked, “What happened?”

“He killed himself in a holding cell while awaiting trial.”

Sirius nodded. Vraci hadn’t been the only one to do so. “So he was a Death Eater.”

“So they say.”

“You don’t think so?”

“They were wrong about you,” Remus pointed out. He took a small sip of his firewhiskey. “But they were probably right about him. The only evidence against him was the testimony of other Death Eaters trying to make deals to save themselves—there was a lot of that just after Voldemort disappeared,”—Sirius nodded— “but there were _several_ people who named Vraci when they named names. Apparently, if you survived an attempt on your life and were sent to St. Mungo’s, your chances of recovery were much lower if he was assigned to make one of your prescribed potions.”

“Oh God.” Sirius thought for a moment. “Sylvia Prewitt.”

Remus nodded grimly. “Among others.” Remus took a deep breath before rising from the table and going into the adjoining pantry. “I’m still hungry. Where did you put those biscuits I bought?” he called over his shoulder.

“I’m really sorry, Moony,” Sirius said as he followed his friend as far as the pantry doorway. 

“For what?”

“About Alex. I know that you and he—that you were involved with each other.”

Remus had just taken a package of biscuits off a shelf. He stood clutching them, not turning around to face Sirius. “Briefly,” he said softly. “How did you—” he cleared his throat and turned to face Sirius. “ _When_ did you find out?”

“That last summer before James and Lily died. I happened to see a photo of you two kissing.”

“A photo?”

Sirius sagged against the doorframe and reached up to massage the back of his neck. The tension of this conversation was making itself tangible there. “Alex was already under suspicion, and someone ordered periodic surveillance of him.” 

Remus smiled slightly and used opening the package to avoid Sirius’s gaze. “Snogging a suspected Death Eater. That couldn’t have been very beneficial to the ‘Can we still trust Remus?’ case.” He took two biscuits and held out the package to Sirius.

“It didn’t help, no,” Sirius admitted as he took the package and preceded Remus back into the kitchen. He turned a chair to face the fireplace and sat with his feet propped up in front of the flames.

“Too bad I didn’t suspect him. I could have broken it off sooner, or better yet never started it at all,” Remus said as he took a seat on the hearth and looked into the flames as well. “Strange.”

“What is?”

“When he was arrested, I kept wondering why if he was a Death Eater had he never tried to get any information from me. Sometimes he’d ask what I planned to do the next day, but he would have been a strange boyfriend if he hadn’t. If I were visiting James or scouting out their next place to live, I’d say something vague or lie. Alex was always fine with that. And I never brought him to my flat, and he was fine with that too. In retrospect, you’d think he would have wanted to go there and see if I was careless enough to leave anything lying around. I wasn’t, but why didn’t he check?”

“They didn’t need you to tell them where Harry was. They had Peter for that.”

Remus made a vague noise of assent and nodded. 

“I guess you’ll just have to accept that Alex was interested in you because of your animal magnetism,” Sirius said with a grin.

Remus snorted and looked askance at Sirius. It was familiar—it was comfortable—hearing Sirius make jokes about his lycanthropy. When others referred to it, they always meant it as an insult. But when his friends had done it, they were showing that they accepted him, just as he was, pointy fangs and all. He wondered if Sirius would ever tease him about his homosexuality in that same way. He hoped he would.

“It doesn’t bother you that I’m gay, does it?” 

“No—” 

The unspoken word “but” seemed to hang in the air. Remus felt himself tense as he waited. He resisted looking back at Sirius and kept his eyes fixed on the way one small flame kept licking around the edge of the uppermost log, trying to establish a steady burn.

“What bothered me was that you didn’t tell us,” Sirius said at last. Then in a low voice that was almost a whisper, he added, “There were a lot of things you didn’t tell us.”

Remus was afraid to ask what Sirius was referring to, but he was more afraid not to. Mistrust and silence had destroyed them all once before. They couldn’t make the same mistakes all over again. He wouldn’t allow it. He forced himself to face Sirius directly and fixed him with a stare. Sirius, conditioned by countless full moon nights, immediately dropped his gaze rather than challenge the wolf by staring back.

“Tell me,” Remus ordered. “Why did you suspect me? What did you think I wasn’t telling you?”

“Damn, Remus, do you really want to dredge this up?” Sirius glanced up again, a worried crease between his brows. “I was _wrong_. I _know_ I was wrong. What does it matter _why_ I thought it?”

“Because it still bothers you—”

“No! It doesn’t!”

“—and because you owe me an explanation, Sirius. Do you remember that day you came to my flat?” Sirius glanced back toward the firewhiskey bottle still on the table. Remus felt an anger he didn’t know he’d been carrying well up inside him, hot and bitter like vomit in the back of the throat. “August twenty-seventh, Sirius. Do you remember? I remember it. I knew I’d never—James was my friend too, and I _never_ saw him again.” Tears were spilling down his cheeks, but Remus didn’t wipe them away.

“I remember,” Sirius said quietly. “Very well. I’ve relived it more times than I can count.” 

Azkaban. Sirius had relived that day in Azkaban. Remus’s anger abated somewhat. He knew that he had a right to be angry, but Sirius wasn’t the right target. Sirius had already paid for his mistakes—paid a higher price than he should have. And if he had relieved that day in Azkaban, it must be as painful a memory for Sirius as it was for Remus. 

“I’m sorry, but I need to know.”

Sirius nodded and twisted around in his seat to grab the bottle. He took a swig from it and offered the bottle to Remus. Remus took it and just held it. He thought it best to keep it out of Sirius’s hands for the remainder of this conversation.

“Photos. A pile of them this thick,” Sirius said. He held his forefinger and thumb an inch apart.

“Alex and me?”

“No—yes, but just a few. Damn, Moony, I don’t think there was anyone under suspicion that you weren’t seen with. Malfoy, Hugo Davis, Serrault, Goyle, Aidan Howes, _Snape_ , my damn cousin Bellatrix—and those are just a few I remember off the top of my head.”

“I don’t remember—” Remus’s forehead wrinkled in confusion as he tried to recall meeting with the people Sirius had named. He still remembered meeting Aidan Howes, but even all these many years later, he felt guilty that he did not warn anyone before Howes killed someone. He chose not to discuss him. “I did run into your cousin once, but just by accident. She gave me a rather nasty message to pass on to you—which I didn’t—and went on her way.”

“I can remember looking through the photos, and there was _nothing_ wrong in any of them. I kept saying, ‘This one doesn’t mean anything, and this one doesn’t mean anything.’ But there were so bloody many of them, Moony.” Sirius’s eyes were pleading for understanding.

Remus smiled encouragingly. “I would have mistrusted me on less.”

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. “I actually liked the first one. Malfoy tried to shake your hand and you refused.” 

Remus laughed. “A point in my favour. I remember that happening. Did any of the photos bother you? Other than the one of me snogging a Death Eater, of course.”

Sirius nodded. “Snape.”

“Snape?” Remus deliberately chose to misunderstand. “I never snogged Snape.” 

Sirius laughed—the desired result. “No, you prat. Snape gave you some papers.” Remus frowned as he tried to remember what they could have been. “Do you remember how much he hated you back then?”

“Just slightly more than he does now? Yes.”

“He wouldn’t go anywhere near you back then.” A wicked smile spread across Sirius’s face. “The mere thought of being alone with you would make him piss his pants in fear. But in the photo, he just walked up to you, spoke with you, and gave you some papers. I couldn’t imagine him doing that unless he was ordered to. Obviously, I was wrong.”

“Maybe we should ask Severus—” Remus had been trying to remember what the papers had been, but Sirius’s words caused his mind to spin off in another direction. “Oh fuck—I am so stupid!” Remus started to raise his hand to pound a fist down on the stone hearth and realized that the bottle was still clutched in his hand. He took a large swallow that left him coughing. Sirius watched him, the worried crease back between his brows. “Alex.” Remus coughed again. “‘—unless he was ordered to.’ He wasn’t even _gay_. It was all a set-up from the very beginning.”

“But you said that he didn’t—”

“I was _seen_ with Alex. I ran into Malfoy when I was _with_ Alex. I ran into Bellatrix just _after_ I left Alex. Peter. That bloody bastard Peter. Alex wasn’t after information. Alex’s job was to frame me so you wouldn’t suspect Peter.” Remus drank again but didn’t cough this time; his throat was still numb. “Predictable. He said right to my fucking face that I was predictable.”

“Alex said you were predictable?”

“Peter! He _knew_ I always picked up guys between first quarter and full. He _knew_ my favourite place to go. He _knew_ —Shit!—he knew that of all the guys in the place I’d pick Alex. God, I was so stupid. You were right to cut me off, Padfoot. I was too stupid to deserve your trust.”

Remus closed his eyes and hung his head in shame and embarrassment. He felt the bottle being pulled from his fingers and thought that Sirius had decided it was prudent to take it away from him, just as he had decided it was prudent to take it from Sirius earlier. Then he heard a clink of glass on glass as Sirius poured another drink of firewhiskey. 

When he glanced up again, Sirius was staring into the amber liquid. Remus recognized the look in Sirius’s eyes. It was the hurt despair of a dog who has lost his master’s love. He had seen it in Sirius’s eyes many times in the days and weeks after “the prank.” 

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked. Sirius shook his head. He started to raise the glass, but Remus put a hand on his wrist. “I’m the one who acted like an idiot. This is your chance to lecture me or tease me or something, you know. Get back at me for all the times I did it to you.”

“You fucked up, Moony,” Sirius said. A slight smile quirked up one corner of his mouth. 

“It’s a start. You can do better.” The smile disappeared, and the hurt puppy look returned. “What’s wrong?” Remus asked again. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Sirius said as he fixed his gaze on the fire.

Remus’s hand was still on Sirius’s wrist. He squeezed a bit tighter as he shifted on the hearth to be directly in front of his friend. “If it bothers you, it affects me. We can’t have any more silences between us. I can’t go through that again.”

Sirius shifted in his chair. “You told Peter. I thought you weren’t ready to tell any of us, but you told Peter.” Anger crept into his voice. “Damn, Moony, you used to talk to _me_. I don’t think you even wanted to tell me _now_ —and I thought, ‘Fine, it’s just like being a werewolf. He won’t ever tell me, so I have to tell him that I already know.’ But _Peter_ even knew where you picked blokes up!”

“You’re right,” Remus admitted, “but I do have an explanation. You might not like it.”

“Try me.”

Remus released Sirius’s wrist, but continued to hold his gaze. “It was easier to talk to Peter—” the hurt puppy look began to re-emerge under the scowl—“because he already knew. Apparently—and don’t kill me for saying this—he noticed me checking you out in the shower once or twice.”

“You checked me out?”

“Don’t play daft, Sirius. We both know that you were the best looking bloke in the entire school. Did you really think I could be in the same dormitory with you and not sneak a peak once in awhile?”

Sirius began to smile in spite of himself. “I did wonder if you had.”

“Do you remember how hot it was in September of seventh year? You got in this blasted bad habit of parading around our room without a shirt on.”

“Didn’t you like my bad habit? I was rather fit back then.”

“I couldn’t study! Peter started laughing at me one night because I was on the same bloody page for two hours!” Sirius burst out laughing. “Peter finally saved me by talking you and James into a kitchen raid or harassing the Slytherins or something.” Remus chose to edit out that next part of the story, but Sirius guessed.

“Have a nice wank as soon as you were alone, Moony?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

“You just did,” Sirius said with a smile. “I still wish you’d been willing to tell James and me, but you’re forgiven for telling Peter.”

“I couldn’t tell James; telling James was the same as telling you. And I _couldn’t_ tell you.”

“Why? Just because the sight of me in the shower inspired a few wanks?”

“You would have hated me.”

“Never. I might have stopped showering around you, but—”

“Do you remember Philip Clark?”

Sirius did remember. Philip Clark had been a Muggle-born Hufflepuff a year ahead of them. Friendly, although a bit on the quiet side. He had joined the Hufflepuff Quidditch team as a Chaser his fifth year. A good player, but never in James’s league. Sometime during the summer between Clark’s fifth and sixth years, a fellow Hogwarts student had learned that Clark was romantically involved with another boy, a Muggle teenager from his town. On September first, the news had spread through the Hogwarts Express like wildfire. From September first until the Christmas holiday, Clark had endured an unending stream of taunts from his schoolmates. When he chose not to return to school at the end of the holiday, no one had been completely surprised.

Sirius had never taken part in harassing Clark—he saved that for students he disliked—but with an ever-growing sense of shame, he tried to remember what he might have said about Clark in Remus’s presence.

“Was I completely awful?” he asked contritely.

“It wasn’t your finest moment. James and Peter were just as bad, but you were all young and stupid, so I forgive you. I remember that it seemed like fortunate timing. I was just coming to grips with the fact that I might be gay, and I wondered if I could tell all of you. You’d all handled learning about my other little secret, so— Then I saw the disgust in your faces when you talked about Clark. This ‘shirt-lifter’ decided to keep his mouth shut.”

A log collapsed into glowing coals and set up a shower of sparks. Both wizards glanced into the fire at the sound. Sirius sat lost in thought, ashamed of himself for his words of long ago. He had always wanted to protect Remus from those who would hurt him, yet he himself had been one of those who hurt Remus. Remus’s thoughts drifted back to his earlier epiphany.

“Oh God,” Remus moaned and hung his head in shame again. “Alex wasn’t even _gay_.”

“That little detail seems to bother you. Why?”

“How would you like to realize that someone found the entire idea of sleeping with you repugnant and had done so only because he—excuse, me, _she_ —faced possible torture or death if she didn’t?”

“Not flattering. But maybe he _was_ gay; that’s probably why they chose him to seduce you.”

Remus snorted at the word “seduce.” He didn’t think “Do you want to come home with me?” merited the epithet of “seduction.”

“Trust me,” Remus said. “He wasn’t gay. The first couple of times we slept together, he had to get drunk to even face the thought of going in the bedroom. He admitted that he’d never had sex with a man before, and I thought he was just nervous about it.”

“So why him?”

Remus didn’t answer immediately. It was one thing to admit that at seventeen, he’d been aroused by the sight of Sirius naked or shirtless. It was another to admit that several years later he had chosen sexual partners based upon how easily he could fantasize that they were Sirius. However—no more secrets.

“Who did Alex resemble?” Remus asked.

Sirius thought about his extended family. “Mostly his mother I suppose, although the dark hair was from his father.”

“Good night, Padfoot.” Remus said as he rose from the hearth and headed for the door. “Don’t kill me when you figure it out. It’s really not my fault that you’re the sexiest bastard I’ve ever met.”

“Oh.”

 

_—Written January 2004_


	3. Propositions

July 1995

Remus slowly drew the tip of his wand across the shelf trying to reveal any possible security spells that might prevent him from removing a book from the shelf. He repeated the process for the next shelf down. Hermione’s recent arrival in the house gave him added incentive to check the library for hidden dangers.

“You should’ve told me you were coming up here,” said Sirius from the doorway.

“You were talking with Arthur about his car; I didn’t want to interrupt,” Remus replied without taking his attention off his task.

“This isn’t a particularly safe room to be in,” Sirius said darkly. 

“I know. I’m staying away from the shelves behind the desk. Some rather nasty spells on those books,” Remus said as he settled cross-legged on the floor in order to check the lowest shelves.

“Be careful of that copy of _Poisons for all Requirements_. The pages are poisonous; you need gloves to handle it.”

Remus marked the purple book with a glowing “X.” “Any others in this section that I should mark as dangerous?” he asked.

“I’ll read all the titles later and try to remember,” Sirius said as he sprawled in a green leather club chair. He silently watched Remus work until Remus stood to begin the next section. 

“Molly had better get used to living with you in a hurry,” Sirius said angrily, “because if she can’t, _she’s_ leaving, not you.”

“What are you on about? Molly and I are getting along fine.”

“She jumped a foot when you came into the kitchen.”

“I startled her.”

“ _And_ I heard her tell you that she doesn’t want you here for the full moon.”

“No, you heard her _ask_ me if it’s true that I won’t be here for the full moon. I assured her that I won’t be.” 

“I want you to stay here. Snape can make himself useful and make you some of that potion.”

“With it or without it, I’m not staying here with the children. Wolfsbane Potion makes me safer, but I still don’t want to risk it.” Remus gave up on his project. He no longer had sufficient concentration to do it safely. “And see it from Arthur and Molly’s point of view,” Remus said as he settled into the other club chair. “It was only a year ago that I almost killed one of their children. That they’re willing to live under the same roof as I am, that they’re willing to have their _children_ live under that same roof, it proves that they see me as a person first and a werewolf second. But even if I were willing to stay here for the full moon—which I’m not—it would be too big a risk to ask of the Weasleys.” 

“Will you stay here for the moons after the kids go back to school?”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Remus said with a smile. “But I can’t promise that I’ll be here every month. Dumbledore said that he might have some travelling for me to do soon.”

Sirius had been picking at a crease in the leather under his fingers. He now looked down at the crease rather than at Remus. “When are you leaving?” It took Remus a moment to realize that Sirius was talking about the upcoming full moon. 

“The full moon’s next Tuesday. I’ll leave early that afternoon, I suppose. Why?”

Sirius shrugged. “Just something you said last week. I thought you might want to get out of here a day or two sooner.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Padfoot?”

“Of course not!” Sirius exclaimed as he looked up sharply, afraid that he’d offended his friend. He relaxed when he saw that Remus was grinning.

“What did I say last week?” Remus asked as he slouched down a bit more in the chair and rested his chin on the heel of his hand.

“That, um—” Sirius seemed to find the arm of chair fascinating again. “That you _always_ pick up guys between first quarter and full.

“Oh, _that_.” Remus unfolded his hand to mask half of his face. If he had had a tendency to blush, he knew that he would have been blushing now. “You must think I’m a right horny bastard.”

“Actually, given the timing of it, I figured that the wolf was the horny bastard,” Sirius replied as he looked up with a small smile.

“Um-hmm,” Remus admitted with a nod. He straightened up and sighed. “But I don’t let him _indulge_ as often as I used to.”

“Why not? You aren’t sick, are you, Moony?”

Remus shook his head and smiled reassuringly at his worried friend. He realized that one or more of the Muggle newspapers or magazines he’d brought home for Sirius must have had an article about AIDS. “I probably should be, given my past history, but I’m not. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just not human enough to catch it.” He chose not to tell Sirius that up until three years ago, he’d been so willing to die that he’d shunned safe sex practices.

Sirius grinned in relief. “So why don’t you _indulge_ as often anymore?” He enjoyed being able to tease his friend again.

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“I just find it rather amusing that my quiet friend Remus, the prefect, the ‘good boy,’ has probably had more sexual partners than he can count, whereas I acquired a heartbreaker reputation while having had so few sexual partners that I could count them on one hand.”

“I thought your hand _was_ your sexual partner.”

Sirius threw his head back with a groan. “Don’t remind me. It’s been so long since I’ve had sex that I could almost give you a go.”

“Gee, thanks. I’m so flattered.”

Sirius’s head snapped forward so quickly that it made Remus wince with sympathy pain. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” Sirius said quickly.

“Yes you did, but it’s O.K.”

* * * * *

Remus tended to be a light sleeper. During his first month at Hogwarts, the quiet sounds of his sleeping dorm mates had kept him from sleeping through the night. Then during the holidays, he’d discovered that he couldn’t sleep due to their absence. He’d come to rely upon the sounds of their breath and rustling sheets to reassure him that he was not alone.

Now he slept where he could hear Sirius. Sirius had not wanted any of the bedrooms he associated with his family, so he had chosen a little used guest bedroom. One of its advantages was a small adjoining room intended to be a bedroom for a servant accompanying the guest. Sirius had shown the adjoining room to Remus saying, “When the house starts to fill up, I’ll move in here and let Buckbeak have my room,” but Remus had immediately claimed the small room for himself. 

Sirius had had a few nightmares during the week he’d spent at Remus’s home before returning to Grimmauld Place, and Remus had thought it likely that the return to Sirius’s childhood home could only make the problem worse. Unfortunately, he was right. 

When nightmares had awoken Remus years ago in Gryffindor tower, it had been Sirius who had made awkward and unsure attempts to offer reassurance. Knowing what he did now about Sirius’s childhood, Remus doubted that either of Sirius’s parents had ever filled the role of defender against demons and monsters of the night. And yet, even without their example, Sirius had tried to fulfil that role for Remus. Remus wanted to be nearby in order to fill that role for Sirius now.

Remus awoke at the sound of claws clicking on the floor. When his partially open door swung open and two bright eyes peeked around the edge of the door, Remus smiled in welcome.

“Can’t sleep?”

Padfoot came closer and nudged Remus’s hand in answer. Remus stroked the dog’s head and ran his fingers through the thick fur of his ruff. Padfoot settled back on his haunches and rested his head on the bed within easy reach of Remus’s hand. Remus continued to stroke the silky fur. He didn’t bother to speak; he didn’t want Sirius to feel that he had to transform back before he felt ready. He wondered if Sirius had transformed just after he awoke, or if he had done it in his sleep. He knew from the first nightmare he’d witnessed that the latter was a possibility.

Padfoot sighed contentedly—if a dog’s huff can be called a sigh— and then lay down on the small oval rug beside Remus’s bed. The rug was thin and didn’t provide much cushioning against the hard floor.

Remus sat up and patted the foot of his bed. “You can sleep up here if you’d rather. You can keep my feet warm.” Padfoot immediately jumped up on the bed as if he’d just been waiting for the invitation.

Remus lay back down and curled up in an attempt to get comfortable despite losing the lower third of the bed. Given that they were experiencing an unusually hot summer, a foot warmer was the last thing Remus needed. But despite the prodigious heat coming from his large canine friend and the loss of space in the bed, Remus knew he’d sleep better knowing that he’d done what he could to help Sirius sleep peacefully.

Padfoot’s yawn was all the thanks he needed.

 

August 1995

Sirius awoke at dawn. During his two years on the run, it hadn’t been safe to sleep soundly during daylight hours. It hadn’t been safe to sleep soundly at any time, but at least at night, he could trust his dark fur to provide camouflage in the surrounding darkness. When the sky lightened, he needed to awaken. Two years of rising with the sun had so thoroughly conditioned him that the habit continued even now.

Remus was still sound asleep. He lay curled on his side, his chest and belly against Sirius’s back with one arm thrown around Sirius’s stomach as if to protect him against the nightmares that had sent him into Remus’s bedroom during the night. Or, more likely, he lay that way because it was the only way two tall men could comfortably fit in his narrow bed.

 _“I need to stop acting like a child and coming in here,”_ Sirius thought, but he knew that resolution was doomed to failure. When the night filled with dementors and with the corpses of friends and strangers blaming him for their deaths, only Remus could make him feel safe and loved again. _“O.K., a more realistic resolution then. Next time, I ask Remus to come in my room. The bed’s bigger.”_

Sirius rolled onto his back—slowly, careful not to wake Remus. He smiled at his sleeping friend; he felt immensely grateful that Remus didn’t seem to mind these intrusions. Remus shifted his head down onto Sirius’s shoulder and drew his arm back to rest his palm on the flat of Sirius’s abdomen. Sirius couldn’t help but grin. _“At least if he wakes up at this moment, he won’t be shocked to discover himself cuddling a bloke.”_

As if on cue, Remus began to stroke the line of hair on Sirius’s belly with a feather-light touch. The rhythm of his breathing was still regular and unchanged, so Sirius knew he had not truly awoken, but he was barely asleep. Remus’s fingers curled and combed across Sirius’s belly. Sirius felt his eyes close. He was enjoying the feel of Remus’s touch far too much, but it was just _so_ long— _far_ too long—since anyone had touched him like he was someone worthy of love, or even just worthy of desire. 

Remus’s fingers brushed just under the waistband of Sirius’s pyjama bottoms and stopped moving. Sirius took a shaky breath. He had to end this now; he had to wake Remus up. Whoever Remus was dreaming he was, he wasn’t. If this went any further, they’d both be embarrassed when Remus truly awoke. But he didn’t need to wake him. Remus tipped his head up and looked at Sirius with wide eyes. 

“Good morning.” Sirius tried to smile as if he were completely composed and not at all affected by what had just been happening. He could see by the look of panic in Remus’s eyes that he hadn’t quite succeeded. Remus pulled his hand away as if Sirius’s skin had scalded him and simultaneously backed into the wall.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t really awake, and I’d never—I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Sirius said. The word _“yet”_ was in his mind. “I’m sorry that I woke you, _and_ that I invaded your bed again. I’ll get out of here so you can go back to sleep.” Sirius got out of bed as he spoke. He needed to get his desperate desire to be touched as far away from Remus and his long, strong hands as quickly as possible. 

When Remus finally came down for breakfast several hours later, the kitchen was blissfully empty. Molly had already fed her brood and set them to work cleaning. Sirius took a break from the war against the house to keep Remus company. Sirius made Remus a cup of hot chocolate while Remus made some toast. Sirius found it amusing that Remus still detested porridge as much as he ever had. While Remus ate the toast and read the _Daily Prophet_ , Sirius tried to work on the previous day’s crossword puzzle, but he couldn’t keep his attention on the page. He found himself watching Remus instead.

Despite what he had almost desired to happen that morning, Sirius knew he _wasn’t_ gay. He dated _girls_ when he was younger. He hadn’t been sneaking peaks at blokes in the shower like Remus had. Well, a few times, but that had been more admiring than desiring.

He was just—lonely—and horny—and _lonely_. But the fact that he had considered it, even fleetingly, caused him to contemplate the fact that Remus was gay—and to contemplate Remus. He knew what attracted men to women and women to men. It was the difference, the “otherness.” Softness and curves attracted angles and hard muscles; angles and hard muscles attracted softness and curves, right? So what did one man see in another? 

Remus held the cup cradled in his hands. As he brought it to his mouth, he closed his eyes to better focus on the scent and taste alone. He was smiling as he lowered the cup from mouth. He licked a trace of chocolate off his upper lip.

“Oh.”

“What did you say, Padfoot?”

“Nothing.”

 

September 1995

Remus delayed opening his eyes as the pain shifted from the sharp agonies of the transformation itself to the pervasive ache that always followed. Padfoot’s warm breath was on his face as the dog nudged Remus with his muzzle and whimpered in sympathy and in inquiry. Remus wanted to reassure his friend that he was alright, that he had survived yet another transformation into wolf and back again, but every small muscle needed for speech simply hurt too much to make the effort just yet. 

A warm, wet, sandpapery tongue began to stroke across Remus’s cheek again and again. Remus could remember clawing at his muzzle as he changed this morning, and he surmised that Padfoot was bathing his wounds the way instinct dictated. Remus could taste blood as well. Near the end, he’d accidentally bitten his tongue while trying not to scream. Remus swallowed with effort, savouring the rich coppery taste, and shuddered when he realized how much he enjoyed it. Even tamed by the Wolfsbane Potion, the wolf was still _there_.

“Stop, Padfoot. Don’t.” Remus twisted away from the dog who was not a dog. Sirius shifted back into himself as he settled back a few feet away.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said quietly. His eyes were shadowed in concern. “I’ve always—Did I hurt you?”

Remus shook his head as he carefully sat up. Sirius made an abortive move to offer a hand in assistance, but seemed to have second thoughts since his canine attempt to help had been rebuffed. Remus saw the movement and extended an arm to his friend. 

“Could you help me up and to my bed?” he asked.

They’d spent the night in their rooms and were now in the larger room, Sirius’s room. Sirius immediately jumped to his feet and started to lead Remus toward his own bed as it was closer.

“I don’t want to get blood on your sheets,” Remus protested, but he allowed Sirius to help him up onto the bed anyway.

“You only have a few scratches, and whether you bleed on my sheets or yours, I’m the one who will be washing them tomorrow—unless I get that lazy Kreacher to actually do something useful.” Sirius opened the lower door of the bedside cabinet and removed a box he’d filled with bandages and healing potions and salves. “You barely need any patching up. You didn’t hurt yourself until you were changing back.”

“It’s a whole different experience with the Wolfsbane Potion, isn’t it?” Remus said as he turned his head to allow Sirius to attend to the clawmarks on the side of his face.

“You seemed to be in more pain when you changed back,” Sirius said. 

“It seems that way, but I don’t think it’s true. The wolf used to get the worst of it, but it caught him by surprise every time. Now I’m still me and I know what’s coming, so—I’ve read that fear of pain makes pain worse.”

“You don’t need to take the potion, you know. Not when you’re here with me.” Sirius finished dabbing salve on a bite on Remus’s hand and simply held his hand loosely when he was done.

“We’re in a populated area, Padfoot. If I were to get away from you—”

“You won’t.”

“The transformation into a wolf seems easier, if that makes you feel better. I can’t feel that it’s going to happen until it starts. Remember how achy and miserable I used to be all day leading up to the full moon? Now I’m so drugged up that it almost catches me by surprise.” Remus nearly scowled as he remembered when it _had_ taken him by surprise. He’d taken six doses of Wolfsbane Potion that week, enough for the numbing effects to take hold, but missed the last dose, leaving him dangerous.

Sirius was staring down at Remus’s hand within his own. “You don’t need me anymore.”

“Of course I do.”

Sirius shook his head. “No, with the potion, you don’t need me. You were happy just to curl up and lay on the rug.” He smiled slightly. “I was just an annoying puppy getting on your nerves.”

“Padfoot—” Remus waited for Sirius to look up at him. “Do you remember what you said the first time you showed me your transformation?” Sirius frowned and then shook his head. “You said, ‘Now you don’t have to be alone anymore.’ That’s what you promised me. I’m holding you to that promise.”

Sirius smiled, relieved that he still a role to play in his friend’s life. “Being alone sucks, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Remus admitted. He hoped Sirius wasn’t about to fall into the familiar pattern of self-recrimination that he so often fell into when he thought of Remus’s years of being alone. Fortunately, Sirius’s thoughts were already moving in another direction.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m _starving_.” Sirius jumped to his feet and headed for the bedroom door. “How about some eggs?”

“And that leftover ham from the other night.”

“Carnivore!” Sirius called out as headed down the stairs.

Remus smiled at the familiar epithet—even if it used to be James and Peter who directed it at him and Sirius both. He nearly laughed as he remembered saying in all honesty about Prongs, “Herbivores are stupid.” 

He suddenly found himself unable to breathe as his still recovering muscles spasmed with pain. _“Wait, wait, wait, easy, breathe, getting better.”_ The pain slowly flowed away and left him with a fresh sheen of sweat on his body. Remus thought ruefully that even pain could serve a purpose. It had certainly proved useful this morning by wiping away any vestiges of the aroused feelings he’d fought against all night. 

He’d hoped that the Wolfsbane Potion would give him enough control over his instincts that Padfoot would be as safe from Moony’s sexual advances as Sirius was from Remus’s. It had worked, but it had been a struggle all night. Padfoot’s scent, a mix of canine and Sirius’s scent was just so—right. When Padfoot had initiated a playful wrestling match, it had very nearly turned into something else altogether. Remus had barely been able to reign himself in. He’d had to growl and snap at Padfoot to discourage him from trying again.

It didn’t help that Remus couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex. The wolf’s desire to mate had been denied too long. Remus realized that if he wanted to spend any more full moons with Padfoot, he’d need to take a page from his pre-Wolfsbane Potion days. Next month, he’d be certain to indulge his sexual desires in the days leading up to the full moon.

 

October 1995

Sirius tried to lose himself in the repetitious movements of currying Buckbeak. Unfortunately, it was too repetitious, too easy. It occupied his hands but not his mind. Downstairs, Remus was changing into Muggle clothes and getting ready to go out. Going out to get laid. He hadn’t said so. He didn’t need to.

He wasn’t going anywhere for Dumbledore. He’d just got back from a five-day trip. He was changing into Muggle clothes—nice Muggle clothes—brown trousers tight enough to hint at the well-shaped ass beneath, but not so tight as to seem strange on a bloke with greying hair, and a button-down shirt the colour of honey. When he occasionally wore Muggle clothes around the house, it tended to be shapeless moth-eaten sweaters and frayed trousers or jeans that had seen better days.

Much to his embarrassment— _“I sounded like a bloody girl”_ —Sirius had protested against Remus’s leaving. “But you just got back, Moony.”

“I won’t stay out all night, Padfoot,” Remus had promised, “but I do _need_ to go.”

“He _needs_ to go,” Sirius told the hippogriff. “He _needs_ a good shag. How about you, Buckbeak? You haven’t had a shag since we met. How long will you be able to stand it before you get desperate enough to break out of here?” 

Sirius threw the currying brushes in a corner and stalked over to the window seat that overlooked the street. He’d sat up here for hours yesterday watching for Remus’s return; now he watched as Remus walked away.

“Sorry, Buckbeak,” Sirius said without taking his eyes off his friend’s back, “but you’re a wanted hippogriff, you know. We can’t let you out for a shag. Maybe we could smuggle a nice lady hippogriff in for you. Or would you prefer another bloke?”

Sirius looked up at the gibbous moon. “Fuck you, too.”

 

Padfoot was curled up on the foot of Remus’s bed when Remus returned home hours later. He thumped his tail in greeting at the sight of his friend, but as Remus came fully into the room, his scent came in too. Padfoot growled. The scent of another man’s sweat was on Remus.

Padfoot jumped off the bed and returned to his own room. Sirius changed back so he wouldn’t have to smell the traces of the scent that lingered in the room from Remus passing through. 

His dreams were troubled that night, but he didn’t go into Remus’s room. His dreams were full of Remus being pawed and fucked by various men: a heavy Muggle who dripped sweat, Alex Vraci who kept whispering in Remus’s ear how much he despised him, Lucius Malfoy who screwed Remus while Narcissa and Bellatrix looked on and laughed, and numerous faceless others.

* * * * *

“Your move, Sirius,” Remus gently reminded his friend. It was rare for Sirius to take so long to choose his next move in chess. At least it was when he played against Remus. Sirius had always been the better chess player of the two, and he usually knew his next move as soon as Remus made his.

“Sorry. Queen’s knight to Queen’s bishop six.” Sirius returned to staring into the kitchen fire while Remus contemplated the board. “I was just wondering something.”

“What’s that? King’s bishop to Queen’s five.”

“You told me that Vraci had to get drunk the first couple of times you—”

“I’d rather not talk about that.”

“—but I was wondering about after the first couple of times. If he only needed to get drunk the first couple—”

“Sirius, drop it.”

“Queen, take the queen.” Sirius watched as the black queen beheaded her white counterpart. “Check. I’ll tell you how to wriggle out of check if you answer my question.”

Rather than submit to the extortion, Remus knocked over his king to admit defeat. Then he took a closer look at the expression on Sirius’s face. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t asking out of amusement at Remus’s embarrassment. He was just staring at the fire sadly because Remus wouldn’t talk to him.

“All right. As I said, the first couple of times, he was nervous as hell. After that, I _thought_ he was starting to enjoy himself. Obviously, he just got better at pretending to enjoy himself.”

“Pretending?” Now Sirius looked amused. “Girls can pretend to enjoy it, Moony. Guys can’t fake it. Either they’re there,” he gestured vaguely at his crotch, “or they’re not.”

Remus laughed in spite of himself. “Oh, he was there. Not the first time, but after that, yes. Let me put it this way. Think about the best sex you’ve ever had, then think of having a lonely wank. Either way, you’re _there_ , as you put it, but one was much more enjoyable than the other. If Alex had rated his sexual experiences, I’m sure that I’d have come in far below wanking off, but that wasn’t the impression I had at the time.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Moony. I’m sure you’re much better than a lonely wank.”

Remus smiled and leaned back in his chair. He regarded Sirius in a way that Sirius was tempted to describe as predatory. “With the right partner, I’m much, much better. If I’m going to do something, I believe in learning to do it well.”

 

November 1995

Dinner was unusually quiet. Remus’s returns to Grimmauld Place usually led to several days of almost non-stop conversation. Sirius would ask about Remus’s trips and the contacts he’d made, he’d want to discuss items he’d read in the newspapers or magazines, he’d tell Remus about the progress he’d made in searching the dark arts books in the library for anything useful, he’d talk about Harry, he’d reminisce about James. It would take several days until Sirius had talked enough to make up for the silent days when his only companions were a hippogriff, a mad house elf, and the portrait of his mother. Only then would Sirius suddenly fall silent and appreciate quiet companionship. And then Remus would need to leave again.

This time was different. Since Remus’s return four days ago, Sirius had made only half-hearted and strained efforts at conversation. At first, Remus had blamed it on the date, Halloween. But four days had passed, Sirius didn’t seem overly depressed—no more than he normally was in this house—and things were still awkward between them. Even the silences didn’t seem to have the comfortable familiarity that the two old friends could often share. Every time Remus looked at Sirius, he caught him staring at him. Stranger yet was the way Sirius would quickly look away as if embarrassed to be caught staring. 

Remus looked up from his dinner now and saw Sirius staring again, a crease between his brows as if he were trying to solve a puzzle or make a decision. Sirius immediately looked down at his dinner. Remus was uncomfortably reminded of the handful of times he’d seen Sirius after they cut him off from contact with James. Sirius had stared at him the same way, trying to figure if Remus had really betrayed them, and if he had, why.

“I need a drink,” Sirius announced as he abruptly shoved his plate away and stood up. “You want one?”

“No, thank you.” 

Sirius took a bottle of firewhiskey out of a cupboard and poured a generous drink for himself. Remus wondered for a moment if Sirius was using the firewhiskey as a crutch to get through the days when he was here alone, but then he caught sight of the label. It was the same bottle they’d opened the night after they moved in. He himself had torn a corner off the label that night.

“I’m going out tonight,” Remus said. He suspected that Sirius wouldn’t want him to leave.

“I thought you might be.” Sirius drank half of the glass in one swallow. “Halfway between first quarter and full, right? Peter was right; you are predictable.”

The accusation stung; it was accurate, but it stung. Remus considered explaining the reason behind the timing, but doing so would require telling Sirius how much difficulty he was having keeping the wolf off Padfoot.

“Excuse me; I think I’ll go change.” As Remus left the kitchen, he heard Sirius refilling his glass.

 

Remus was just buttoning his shirt when he sensed Sirius in the doorway behind him.

“You don’t have to go out, you know.”

“I won’t be out too late,” Remus replied. Sirius’s nightmares were less frequent, but Remus still wanted to be here as many nights as possible. He’d simply have to choose someone who was looking for a brief encounter so he could return soon.

“You could stay here—with me.”

“I know I just got back a few days ago,” Remus said as he turned around at last, “and I’m sorry to leave you again, but—”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Sirius stood in the doorway, blocking Remus from leaving easily. Remus noticed the empty whiskey glass still in Sirius’s hand. Sirius smiled nervously.

“I’m your type, right? At least, I used to be.”

This had to be a joke—a very poor joke. “Not quite, Padfoot. My ‘type’ is gay.”

“Well, Alex Vraci learned to like it. I’m sure I could too.”

 _“Alex.”_ Remus’s eyes went straight to the whiskey glass in Sirius’s hand. _“Not again.”_ Remus could live with the idea that he’d had sex with a man who had to get drunk in order to bear being with him, but he couldn’t bear the idea of that happening with Sirius. Sirius would loathe what they did. Sirius would come to loathe him. 

“No, Sirius. Don’t ask—”

Sirius came closer, and Remus tried to retreat, but after just one step, the bed was already pressing against his legs.

“They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but I’m not an ordinary dog,” Sirius said as he slid his free hand up Remus’s arm. “And our teachers all said that I was a fast learner.”

“I remember,” Remus said. Sirius’s eyes were warier than they had once been, but they were still as startlingly blue. The hair was still the same glossy black that Remus had always wanted to twist between his fingers. His scent—he was so close now, and his scent was all around Remus—Remus knew just how Sirius’s skin would taste from his scent alone. Did Sirius close his eyes when he made love, or would Remus be able to see those blue eyes while— He could smell the firewhiskey on Sirius’s breath.

Remus pulled away just as Sirius tried to kiss him. “No! We’re _not_ doing this. _I’m_ not doing this. Not with you.”

Remus half expected Sirius to argue with him. Sirius had always been able to talk Remus into anything, but Sirius merely stared at Remus for a moment before he turned and walked out of the room. Remus heard him climbing the stairs to Buckbeak’s room.

His human side felt guilty. The hurt of rejection had clearly been written on Sirius’s face. His lupine side was furious. He’d wanted Sirius for so long, and to come so close to having him, and then not—

Sirius was still upstairs when Remus left the house. Remus could feel him watching from the upstairs window.

 

If Remus were prone to exaggeration, he’d say that it had been the single most unsatisfying fuck of his entire life. But as he wasn’t prone to exaggeration, he’d merely place it within his three worst sexual experiences—and that was considering the four women he’d slept with in his life. The man was fine; it wasn’t his fault. He was a bit more effeminate than Remus usually liked, but beggars can’t be choosers, especially when they are in a hurry to get home to someone else. But Remus knew that tonight’s partner could have been the best-looking and most-talented lover in the world, and the experience still would have been awful.

He wanted Sirius.

Sirius, who had drawn him out of his self-imposed isolation as a boy. Sirius, who had sat beside Remus while his friends told him that they knew his secret. Sirius, who spent countless hours sitting at the foot of Remus’s bed in the hospital wing in order to keep him company. Sirius, whose animagus form was the dog whom Moony had always loved most of all his packmates. Sirius, who had still spent the full moons with him and then tended his wounds even after he’d been given ample reason not to trust Remus anymore. Sirius, who had come back from hell and made the world right again. Sirius, who trusted Remus enough to welcome him into his bed to keep the nightmares at bay.

How could Remus betray that trust now? Sirius was lonely and vulnerable. Having sex with him now would be taking advantage of Sirius’s vulnerability to satisfy his own desires. Sirius would hate him later; he’d hate himself now.

Remus was surprised to see the flickering light of a fire illuminating the drawing room. It was a room Sirius usually avoided. 

“Sirius?” Remus drew near the open door.

“HE’S DRUNK!” Mrs. Black shouted. Remus realized too late that the curtain had been pulled open, whether by Kreacher or by Sirius he did not know. “That ill-begotten abomination of my flesh is as drunk as a common Muggle derelict!”

“Shut up, you old hag!” Sirius roared from the drawing room.

“Those cases of port were purchased the year you were born! We _thought_ you’d grow up proud of your heritage! We _thought_ you’d marry a witch deserving of our family! That port was the start of an appropriate wine cellar for—”

“Then they’re mine, aren’t they?” Sirius yelled as he strode into the corridor, one bottle clutched in his hand. “And I’m welcome to a bottle or two if I want it, aren’t I?” With his free hand, he tugged at the curtain in an attempt to cover his mother’s portrait. Remus silently assisted. 

They succeeded in covering her as she began a keening wail that vaguely sounded like, “Why, oh why,” over and over again.

“Bloody bitch,” Sirius muttered. He glared at Remus for a moment and stalked back into the drawing room. Remus followed quietly and watched as Sirius sprawled in a chair he’d positioned directly in front of the tapestry celebrating his family tree. Remus closed the door behind himself and then cast a silencing spell upon it to block Mrs. Black’s wailing.

“Here we all are, Remus,” Sirius said as he gestured toward the tapestry with the bottle. “So who do you want? ‘Fraid your choices are limited. Most of us are dead, and I doubt ghosts make good lovers. Cold showers, that’s what they are. Here he is,” Sirius said as bolted out of the chair and pointed to a name near the bottom edge. “Al’xander Vraci. Dead. 1982.”

Remus drew near despite his instincts to flee as far away as possible. He couldn’t leave. Sirius was hurting. He couldn’t leave.

Sirius fixed Remus with a searching look. “Why not me, Remus? You used to want me, right? They hand-picked Vraci for you because Peter knew you wanted me.” Sirius looked again at the tapestry and touched another name. “Regulus. 1980.” Sirius’s face softened as he gazed at his brother’s name. Remus stepped closer to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Sirius’s face hardened into anger again as he looked back at Remus. “1980. The year _before_ Vol’mort decided to give you a Death Eater lover. What if he’d still been alive? He looked even more like me than Alex did. That’s who he would have chosen, isn’t it? Yeah, he would. So tell me, Moony, my friend, would you have shagged my brother?”

Remus didn’t know what was the “correct” answer to appease Sirius in this moment, but he did know what the honest answer was. After he realized that he’d been set up with Alex, he’d considered this hypothetical question. He didn’t think he would have been fooled by Regulus; he knew him too well not to be suspicious.

“No.”

“Liar.”

Remus shook his head. “No, I knew him too well.”

Sirius snorted. “Only screw strangers, is that it?” He held up the bottle of port as if making a toast. “To Remus Lupin. He buggered my cousin, he would’ve buggered my brother, but he won’t touch me.” Sirius lowered the bottle but did not drink. “Go to bed, Remus. I’m staying down here tonight.”

* * * * *

When two people both wish to avoid the other, they can manage to do so, even when confined within the same house. They couldn’t avoid each other indefinitely, however, for several members of the Order planned to meet with them that afternoon. Sirius spent as much time feeding and currying Buckbeak as he could before heading down to the kitchen. There were only two empty seats at the table when he walked in. One was beside Remus, of course. Everyone knew to leave that seat for him; Sirius _always_ sat beside Remus. Sirius took the other empty seat.

Snape looked at Sirius in surprise as Sirius sat beside him. Then Snape stared at Remus, questions and speculation in his eyes. Remus looked away from both of them and gave his full attention to the matter being discussed by Emmeline Vance and Arthur Weasley.

Professor Dumbledore arrived just moments after Sirius sat down. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long,” Dumbledore said as sat beside Remus and accepted a cup of tea from Molly. “Minerva is having tea with _that woman_ to prevent her from noticing that Severus and I are not at school, but I don’t wish to tax Minerva’s patience by staying away too long.”

Those who had news to share did so as efficiently as they could each manage. A brief discussion took place over the possible ramifications of the recent leadership change in the French Ministère de la Magie. Arthur promised to handle scheduling the next fortnight’s surveillance for the Department of Mysteries. 

“Which brings us to the last item,” Dumbledore said as he consulted his pocket watch. “Elphias needs to travel to Germany and Austria to meet with his contacts there, and I feel he should have a bodyguard with him. He wants to leave as soon as possible, and you’ll be gone two to three weeks.”

“Even if I pretend to be following up on a sighting of Sirius, I couldn’t be gone that long without raising suspicions,” Kingsley Shacklebolt said.

“I’ll go,” Remus said. “I can leave in a few days.”

“That’s a long time for you to be gone,” Tonks said immediately.

“The full moon is the night after tomorrow. I’ll leave just after and be back before the next.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said as she glanced worriedly at Sirius and then looked at Remus again. “You just got back, didn’t you?”

“He can go,” Sirius said. “I don’t need a minder.” 

“That’s settled then,” Dumbledore said as he shut his pocket watch with a snap. “Good luck with your trip,” he said as he glanced toward Elphias Doge and Remus.

People began to drift out of the kitchen in ones and twos. They knew better than to all flood out of the unseen house at the same moment. Doge and Remus remained at the kitchen table to discuss the logistics of their trip. Sirius wanted to leave the room—but he wanted something to eat more. He had avoided the kitchen throughout lunchtime, and the one biscuit he’d eaten during the meeting had merely reminded him how hungry he was. 

“I’ll check in on you in a few days and see what you need,” Tonks promised Sirius as she gave his arm a squeeze and left with Shacklebolt. 

Sirius nodded and gave her a cheerful smile he didn’t feel. He was so focused on assembling a sandwich and eavesdropping on Remus that he overlooked the fact that Snape had lingered behind. It wasn’t until Doge said his good-byes that he realized Snape was still in the room.

“Do I sense problems within your little _pack_ , Lupin?” Snape asked. Sirius gritted his teeth and felt his grip on the carving knife tighten. “What’s wrong? Did you _finally_ make a pass at Black and get turned down?”

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to Hogwarts?” Remus asked lightly.

“It’s Sunday. Even teachers get an occasional day off. You should remember that. You weren’t a teacher long, but—”

“Out!” Sirius whirled around to face Snape and gestured toward the door with the knife. It was Snape’s fault that Remus wasn’t a teacher anymore, and Sirius couldn’t stand by while Snape rubbed it in his friend’s face. Snape made a gesture of surrender with his hands and moved toward the door. He paused just before going out, and Sirius braced for Snape’s parting shot.

“I’ll never understand why Dumbledore entrusted the students to a homosexual werewolf,” Snape sneered. Sirius only made one stride toward the Slytherin before he felt his body stiffen with the Body-bind Curse and crash to the floor. Snape looked down on him and smiled smugly; he hadn’t lifted a finger. “You should leave him that way, Lupin. You might actually get somewhere with him.”

“Sorry I had to do that,” Remus said just after Snape left. He released the spell with a flick of his wand. “But I couldn’t let you kill him.”

“I wouldn’t have killed him. Hurt him, perhaps,” Sirius said as Remus helped him back to his feet. Remus looked pointedly at the knife in Sirius’s hand, and Sirius put it back on the cutting board with a sheepish smile. “Forgot I was holding it.”

“Would you at least _try_ not to lose your temper around him? You know that’s what he wants.”

“I can’t just stand by and let him insult you, Moony.”

Remus’s back stiffened as he took a deep breath. Sirius realized that he’d somehow made the situation worse instead of better.

“Insult me,” Remus repeated. He fixed Sirius with a glare that caused Sirius to look down. “He called me ‘a homosexual werewolf.’ Which word was the insult, Sirius? I know you don’t think the word ‘werewolf” is an insult, so it must be the word ‘homosexual.’ _That’s_ why I won’t have sex with you.”

* * * * *

A constant battle between human and lupine waged within the mind of every werewolf. The full moon should have given the lupine side dominance, but the Wolfsbane Potion tipped the balance of power back to the human. Barely. The pain of the transformation, even when dulled by the potion, left Remus unable to think clearly for a few moments. Instinct, not thought, drove him back onto his feet. The black dog was already by his side, his head lowered submissively. The wolf sniffed the dog, recognizing him as his packmate. The human within the wolf was grateful that Sirius wanted to spend the night of the full moon with him despite their disagreement.

Padfoot not only allowed the wolf to smell him, but he responded in similar fashion. Sirius had once explained that some of his canine behaviour was instinctive, and some was done deliberately to appease the wolf. Which category this fell into, Remus had never asked.

A moment later, the question was moot, and Remus’s ability to wonder was crumbling. Padfoot’s behaviour had shifted from polite to overtly sexual. He was licking under the wolf’s tail, the way male canines had seduced their mates for millennia. The pleasant sensations caught Remus by surprise, and by the time he remembered that he should be objecting, intellect was subsiding under instinct.

The instinct to mate is a powerful drive, but even so, the Wolfsbane Potion _should_ have left Remus with enough control to resist. He would have been able to resist _if_ his human side didn’t want Sirius even more than the wolf did. Desire versus reason. Reason didn’t stand a chance.

The wolf wanted to mate. He wanted the black dog. But he would not submit to being mounted. Padfoot soon found the tables turned.

* * * * *

Remus sat up and leaned back against the foot of the bed. Padfoot lay several feet away, head between his fore paws, pale eyes watching Remus warily. When Remus looked at him, Padfoot thumped his tail—once—and whimpered.

“Are you still speaking to me?” Remus asked.

Sirius transformed back and sat up. “I should be asking you that.” 

“True.” Remus grabbed hold of the bed to climb to his feet. “So, what _do_ you have to say for yourself?”

“Ow.”

Remus wanted to be angry; he deserved to be angry. He’d made a reasoned and logical choice. He’d told Sirius that he wasn’t willing to have sex with him. Rather than accept that decision, Sirius had taken advantage of his weakness. Sirius had incited the wolf to mate. Padfoot had always controlled the wolf when Remus could not. Padfoot taking control of the wolf away from Remus was a betrayal.

But watching Sirius wince in discomfort as he climbed to his feet and walked to the bed, Remus couldn’t sustain his anger.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Sirius nodded and carefully sat on the edge of the bed beside Remus. “I hurt, Moony.” He rested his head on Remus’s shoulder, and Remus wrapped an arm around his back.

“Of course you do. Anal sex and canines are not an ideal combination.”

“Too big. I could have hurt you; I’m sorry. I’m glad you didn’t let me.”

Remus stared down at his friend’s black hair. Sirius wasn’t even sorry for the right reason. Remus growled in exasperation as he stormed into his own room. He slammed the door shut and secured it with several spells to keep Sirius out.

 

_—Written January 2004_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line, “Herbivores are stupid,” comes from _Cub Scout_ by Moon.


	4. Understandings

December 1995

Remus was back in England before the full moon, but he did not return to Grimmauld Place. He slept on Kingsley’s sofa two nights, and rather than overstay his welcome there, he spent one night at the Burrow. He returned home on the day of the full moon.

Sirius was running down the stairs as Remus entered the house, and Remus realized that Sirius had seen his arrival from an upstairs window. Sirius made it as far as the last stair before the look on Remus’s face made him stop in his tracks.

“Hi. I’ve been worried about you,” Sirius said. He spoke quietly so as not to awaken his mother.

“You knew I was back, didn’t you?” 

Sirius nodded. “Tonks told me yesterday.” He stepped down off the bottom stair but came no closer.

“I’m not staying here tonight.”

“You didn’t get back in time to take Wolfsbane Potion this week, right?” Remus nodded. “I was afraid that might happen, so I got the cellar ready. I got rid of all the red caps, Tonks helped me with the boggart down there, and I strengthened the—”

“No, I’m not staying. I arranged to go to the Ministry’s containment facility.”

Sirius started to step forward but checked himself. “But you hate it there.”

“Yes, I do hate it there, but I can’t stay here, can I?”

“The cellar’s secure; you won’t get out. Come and see.” Sirius grabbed Remus by the arm and tried to lead him toward the kitchen and the cellar. Remus yanked his arm out of Sirius’s grasp and took a step back rather than do what he really wanted to do—slam Sirius against the wall.

“That’s not the point,” Remus said in a low and angry voice. “I wouldn’t stay here even if I had taken the potion. I can’t _trust_ you anymore.”

Sirius’s eyes became fearful. “I said I was sorry. I won’t try anything again.”

“You’re only sorry that it wasn’t the fun fuck you thought it would be! You aren’t sorry that you betrayed me!”

Shouting was a mistake. The last of Remus’s words were drowned out by even louder screams and shouts of Sirius’s mother. She berated her son for allowing the “flea-bitten beast” back into the house, and Sirius shouted right back at her as he tugged the curtains back into place over her. Remus just wanted to tear her to shreds—or maybe he wanted to do that to Sirius instead. He realized that the day of the full moon was the wrong day to confront Sirius about this. He decided to retreat where Sirius could not follow, outside. He hesitated just before he opened the door, pulled a much-folded parchment from his pocket, and left it behind on the table by the front door.

Sirius tugged the curtains closed and turned to deal with his angry friend. “Shit!” He ran to door and yanked it open, hoping that Remus hadn’t gotten far. Sirius stood with one foot inside and one on the top step while he looked around desperately. He was tempted—so tempted—to transform and pursue Remus’s scent. But he knew it was hopeless. If Remus was already out of sight, he had undoubtedly apparated away from the neighbourhood.

 

Mundungus Fletcher arrived late the next morning to find an unshaven Sirius sitting at the kitchen table with a cold cup of tea before him. 

“Just dropping off a few items Moody wanted me to acquire,” Fletcher said cheerfully as he prepared a new pot of tea. “Almost brought them by last night, but remembered it was the full moon. Found this on the table in the hall.” He tossed a folded piece of parchment in front of Sirius. “Looks like a letter to you. Remus sleeping? You look like it was a long night.”

“He’s not here.”

“No? Why do you look like hell then?”

Sirius did not answer. He had already unfolded the parchment and begun to read.

_Dear Sirius,_

_Yet another letter to you that I have no intention of sending. At least this time, I’m not writing because I can’t see you face to face, but rather because I intend to. You deserve to hear from me that I won’t spend any more full moons with you. I guess I’m trying to organize my thoughts before I tell you._

_I just don’t know where to begin to make you understand how deeply hurt and betrayed I feel. I tried to tell you before I left, but I really couldn’t handle being in the same room with you. Too tempted to kill you. Or fuck you—and that would have been a bit counterproductive to telling you that I’m angry. On second thought, given how sore you were, it might have proven my point rather nicely._

_I’m rambling. How to get back on topic? My patronus. You know that Padfoot is my patronus. Have you ever considered why? Padfoot protects me from the wolf. I hate—I loathe—I fear becoming the wolf. I hate the way my ability to think disappears—no, is buried under the wolf’s instincts and drives. I lose control over myself, and I’m afraid of what I may do._

_From the first full moon you spent with me, I got back control. When you were with me, my human side wasn’t buried as deeply. More importantly, I trusted you to control the wolf for me. You may have looked like a dog, but you were a dog with a human intellect and a lion’s courage. I knew you’d keep the wolf—keep me—out of trouble. You protected me from what the wolf might do. You never let the wolf do anything that you knew I wasn’t willing to do. Even when we disagreed about where to go, or how far, come moonrise I knew that I could trust you to prevent me from doing anything I wouldn’t be willing to do._

_But last month, you did just the opposite. I was already teetering on the edge. I was clinging to humanity by my fingernails, trying not to fall into an abyss of the wolf’s desires and instincts. Even taking that vile potion and making sure I’d had sex recently, I could barely keep the wolf off you. And what did you do? You deliberately pushed me over the edge._

_I’d made a decision. I’d chosen not to have sex with you. You knew that’s how I felt. You didn’t agree with my decision, but I trusted you to abide by it. My trust was misplaced. You merely waited until I wasn’t capable of deciding or choosing or objecting, and you made the decision for both of us._

_Do you have any idea how much this reminds me of sixth year? You didn’t consult me on that decision either, even though my life would have been significantly changed if you’d succeeded._

_Elphias is snoring again. He’s had a cold for three days now and refuses to take Pepper-Up or anything else. It’s his problem during the day, but since we could only get one room, his cold becomes my problem at night. We’ll be back in England tomorrow (barring anymore unforeseen delays) but it’s too late. I should have started taking my potion two nights ago. Well, at least it’ll keep me from being tempted to cave in and spend the full moon with you. Without the potion—and with the wolf now having no doubts that Padfoot is his mate—you wouldn’t stand a chance. And I think you’d agree that getting buggered by a wolf is not your idea of a good time._

The letter ended there, unsigned. As if it mattered. Sirius knew Remus’s handwriting as well as his own, the context made the author blatantly clear, and even Remus’s dark sense of humour showed through. Saying that his life would have been “significantly changed” if he’d been executed for killing Snape. If the rest of the letter hadn’t already filled Sirius with remorse for his actions, that paragraph alone could have accomplished the task. He’d sworn that he’d _never_ betray Remus’s trust like that again, yet Remus was telling him that he had.

“Bad news?” Mundungus asked when he saw that Sirius had finished reading.

“Is there any other kind?”

“Cheer up, mate,” Mundungus said as he clapped Sirius on the shoulder and stood to leave. “Christmas in a few weeks. Peace on Earth. Goodwill toward men. All that rot. I’ll be back next Wednesday. Anything I can get for you?”

“Yeah, another bottle of firewhiskey.”

Mundungus paused on his way out the door. They both knew that Mundungus had just brought him two bottles a few weeks ago. Mundungus nodded. “See you Wednesday, Sirius.”

* * * * *

Remus was in a rented room in a small fishing village when Tonks’s owl, Iggy, found him. He was pleased to see Sirius’s familiar curvy hand. He’d wasted too many years being angry with Sirius. Remus wanted to forgive him, and he was hopeful that Sirius had found the right words to make him do so. After summoning one of the mice from the nest inside the wall to be Iggy’s breakfast, Remus climbed back into his own warm nest of blankets to read his letter.

_Dear Remus,_

_I’m always bollocksing things up, aren’t I? I’m so, so sorry that I let you down like that. I never meant to hurt you, and I swear I didn’t mean to betray you. I know how important staying in control is to you. I didn’t realize that I would be “pushing you over the edge,” as you put it. I didn’t know that you were having trouble maintaining control around me. You never told me. I guess I overestimated how effective the Wolfsbane Potion is. I thought that the wolf would be strong enough to help me convince you, but I thought you’d make the decision._

_I thought it would be like when we were in school. James and I would come up with a great idea, and we could tell that you wanted to go along with it, but you’d start overthinking it and decide not to do it. But if we waited until the wolf was strong to ask you, when the moon was waxing gibbous, you’d be less likely to overthink it and more likely to give in to what you really wanted to do._

_Now that I’m writing this, I realize how deceitful that sounds. We didn’t mean it to be. Even then, you wouldn’t agree unless you really wanted to do it. That’s what I thought the full moon with Wolfsbane Potion would be like. You wouldn’t do anything unless you really wanted to. I was just trying to get you past thinking of all the reasons we shouldn’t have sex and focus on the two reasons we should. I wanted to, and you wanted to. At least, I was hoping you did._

_Please come back for Christmas. I promise that I won’t put up any mistletoe._

_Padfoot_

Sirius had succeeded—more than succeeded. Not only was Remus no longer angry, but he was forced to confront the fact that he bore an equal share of the blame. His lie by omission, not telling Sirius how vulnerable he was even with Wolfsbane, had set this entire fiasco in motion. They were both to blame; they would put that behind them. The question was, what would they do about the future?

Remus hoped he could finish his discussions with the small group of local werewolves soon. He wanted to go home for Christmas.

* * * * *

The strange Christmas decorations in the front hall caught Remus by surprise but were a welcome sight. He was glad to see that Sirius was trying to be cheerful even in these highly trying circumstances. He heard a small explosion followed by laughter in the drawing room. Remus smiled. He’d know Fred and George’s laughter anywhere, and if the Weasleys were here, so was Harry. The reason Sirius had decorated for Christmas was explained.

Remus banished his bag and his cloak to his room before he joined the group in the drawing room. Sirius was playing Exploding Snap with Harry, Fred, and Ginny. George and Ron sat close by. The soot on their faces indicated that they’d recently been eliminated from the game. Hermione was nearest the door, curled up in a chair with a rather weighty book. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Welcome back, Professor. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Hermione.”

Remus looked over at the card players again. Sirius had looked up upon hearing Hermione and Remus. He watched Remus expectantly, wanting to know if he was forgiven. Remus smiled, and Sirius’s face lit up. Remus couldn’t help it; he grinned back.

“Sirius,” Ginny called his attention back to the game. Rather than interrupt, Remus decided to head down to the kitchen. His only meal in the last twelve hours had been a cup of weak tea and a slightly stale roll. Remus was almost to the kitchen doorway when he heard someone running to catch up with him. 

“I didn’t do it!” Sirius said in a rush as he grabbed Remus by the arm to prevent his entering the kitchen.

“Do what?”

Sirius pushed open the door and pointed to a sprig of mistletoe hanging in midair just inside. “Once it’s over someone’s head, it won’t leave until he or she is kissed by someone, but I swear I didn’t do it.”

“Probably Fred or George trying to give Ron and Hermione an excuse to kiss,” Remus surmised as he tried to slip into the room without being “caught” by the enchanted mistletoe. He did not succeed. He stared up at it as it hovered above him and then looked back at Sirius with a bemused smile.

Sirius shook his head. “Not unless you ask me to, Moony.”

“Welcome back, Remus,” Molly Weasley said as came into the kitchen, taking off her cloak and hanging it on the peg she removed her apron from. She glanced at the mistletoe over Remus’s head. “Oh honestly.” She stood on tiptoe to give Remus a quick peck on the cheek, and the sprig of mistletoe drifted back to its place near the door. “I told those two I wanted that mistletoe gone or disenchanted by the time I got back from the hospital.”

“How’s Arthur?” Sirius asked.

“The healers think he’s out of danger, but they haven’t been able to stop—the bleed—bleeding yet—because—” her voice was beginning to catch in hiccupy little breaths, and her eyes welled up with tears.

Sirius glanced at Remus with alarm in his eyes. Offering comfort had never been his forte. Remus wrapped an arm around her and led her into a chair. He kept one arm around her and held her hand. Sirius offered her a handkerchief and took a seat opposite them at the table. 

“I’m sorry,” she said as she dabbed at eyes and wiped under her nose. “I didn’t want—cry at the hospital—and I didn’t—want to cry in front—the children.”

“It’s fine, Molly,” Remus assured her. “You can cry with us. What did the healers say?”

“They can’t treat—properly because—don’t know type— of snake.” She took a deep shuddering breath and wiped more tears away. “They had to give him—antivenin potions,” another deep breath, “for several species, but n—none were exactly right. They don’t think it was a naturally occurring species of snake. Harry said that it was enormous, too big to be most poisonous snakes. Thank God that Harry had that vision. Arthur wouldn’t have survived a longer delay before being treated.” 

The tears were still flowing down her face, but her breathing and speech had normalized. _“Giving her permission to cry was exactly what she needed,”_ Sirius thought. _“Trust Moony to know the right thing to do.”_

 

Remus had been the first of the group to say good-night and head upstairs. He had said that he was tired from travelling, but Sirius had to wonder if Remus was going to bed early to avoid being with him. Molly had called it an evening immediately after Remus, and Sirius realized that he was the sole adult in the room full of teenagers. He suddenly felt very old. He was tempted to leave the room as well, but if Remus was trying to avoid having a discussion tonight, the least that Sirius could do was cooperate and delay going upstairs.

He watched Ron and Harry play a game of chess and had to exercise great restraint not to help Harry. He wasn’t a very good player; he wasn’t any better than Remus. Ron and Harry both seemed to accept Ron’s eventual victory as a foregone conclusion, but neither seemed to care. The game was just a way to spend time together. Watching Harry cheerfully lose at chess, Sirius could easily have imagined that his godson didn’t have a competitive bone in his body—if Remus hadn’t already told him how Harry had pushed himself to learn the Patronus Charm just so he could play Quidditch despite the presence of Dementors at Hogwarts.

“Want to play, Sirius?” Ron asked as Harry repaired the broken chess pieces.

“Tomorrow. I might go up to the library and read a bit. Good-night, everyone.” He patted Harry on the shoulder as he got up to leave.

“Good-night,” Harry and the others replied.

When he reached his floor, he saw that the door of his own room was ajar, and the light spilling out of the doorway drew him there instead of the library. He was surprised, but pleased, to see Remus sitting on Sirius’s bed and reading reports to catch up on what had been happening in his absence.

“Wondered how long it would take you to come up here,” Remus commented without looking up.

“I delayed,” Sirius replied as he shut the door. “I thought you might be avoiding talking with me.”

“If I wanted to avoid you,” Remus said as he put the reports aside and looked up at last, “I wouldn’t have come back here.”

Sirius sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed. This was familiar. He’d spent many hours sitting at the foot of Remus’s hospital bed explaining the lessons he’d missed or just keeping him company.

“What do you want, Sirius?”

“I think I made it clear what I wanted. I just picked the wrong way to go about it.”

“As much my fault as yours,” Remus dismissed it with a slight shake of his head. “I should have listened to your explanation before I left.”

“So, where do we go from here?” Sirius asked, echoing Remus’s own thoughts. “I just don’t understand why not, Moony. You used to want me. I know I don’t look half as good as I used to, but I’m not a troll either. And you do sleep around, so I know you’re not a hopeless romantic waiting for the love of your life to come along.”

Remus did not answer. He averted his eyes slightly to stare at the coals glowing in the fireplace grate. Sirius took that to mean that Remus had to consider it some more. During the week of the new moon, Remus tended toward careful, thoroughly considered decisions. Sirius decided to go to the bathroom and get ready for bed. After his last mistake, he didn’t want to make Remus feel like he was pressuring him to decide. 

Remus was still sitting on the bed when Sirius returned, but the reports had been put away, and Remus was again watching Sirius instead of the fire.

“You can sleep in here if you want,” Sirius said as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. “I promise I won’t try anything.” He stood to remove his robe and tossed it onto a nearby chair. 

_“Nox,”_ Remus incanted, and all the candles in the room extinguished. Sirius half turned to look back at Remus. His eyes were slightly luminous in the faint red glow of the fire, and he was watching Sirius with the predatory look that Sirius had glimpsed numerous times since their reunion last spring. Remus smiled slightly. “Are you just going to stand there?”

Sirius shook his head; he wasn’t sure he could speak at the moment, at least not intelligently. He sat back down on the edge of the bed, one leg cocked so he could face Remus. Remus’s eyes travelled down his body, now clad only in a thin vest and boxers, and back up to Sirius’s face. Sirius felt his mouth go dry—he’d thought he was ready, but now he was nervous—and licked his lips. 

Remus caught the slight movement and stared hungrily at his mouth. Sirius chose to take that as a hint. He leaned closer to kiss Remus. Remus hesitated for a moment and then pulled back slightly. “Close your eyes,” Remus said, and Sirius knew better than to disobey. 

He felt the mattress dip slightly as Remus moved closer to him. A hand slid up his arm and came to rest on the side of his neck. Remus used his thumb to trace the line of Sirius’s jaw and then to stroke across Sirius’s lips. Sirius parted his lips under the gentle pressure and licked the pad of the thumb. Remus stroked across his lips again and moistened them. Sirius opened his mouth just a bit more, trying to capture the thumb within his mouth, but Remus shifted his hand back, tangling his fingers in Sirius’s hair. At the same moment, Remus’s other hand slid up Sirius’s bent leg.

Sirius wasn’t yet fully aroused, but he was well on his way and glad of it. From a vanity standpoint, he preferred being erect before the remainder of his clothes came off. He figured he might look a bit more “worthy” of Remus’s attentions at his full length. From a practical standpoint, he didn’t want his own lack of arousal to cause Remus to have second thoughts about Sirius’s willingness to participate.

Remus’s hands were now touching him both over and under his shirt. As one of Remus’s hands slipped into the boxers and brushed his hip, Sirius reached out to touch Remus as well. Remus grasped his wrist and prevented the contact. 

“Lay back against the pillows,” Remus whispered in his ear. Sirius shivered, but whether from the warm breath across his cheek and ear, or the light touch of Remus stroking his cock through the thin cotton of his boxers, he did not know or care. Sirius edged back against the pillows piled up at the head of the bed and watched with half-lidded eyes as Remus pushed up his shirt to expose his belly and chest. Sirius found himself wishing that he still had the toned body of his youth instead of the half-starved remnant that Azkaban had left him. Remus licked up the centre of his belly and continued up farther to his throat. There, Remus did not lick or kiss or even bite. He merely inhaled deeply while he nuzzled his nose against Sirius’s hair and throat. Sirius tried to kiss him again, but again Remus pulled away.

A moment later, Sirius found his boxers being swept away. As he arched up to lift himself off the bed so they could be removed, Remus’s mouth was suddenly down around his cock. Sirius gasped in pleasure. Hot, and wet, and the stroking of Remus’s lips and tongue—Sirius couldn’t remember ever feeling anything so perfect. Remus pushed Sirius’s legs farther apart and stopped sucking just long enough to reposition himself between Sirius’s legs. Sirius watched as Remus went down again, but this time he licked and sucked on Sirius’s balls while his hand stroked the slick cock and kept it from feeling neglected. When Remus licked his way back to the tip of the cock again, his fingers stroked firmly just below Sirius’s balls. The stroking created deep waves of pleasure and made the sensations around his cock even more intense. 

Sirius’s head fell back, and he tangled his fingers in Remus’s short hair. “God, you _are_ good at this,” he breathed.

“Um-hmm,” Remus agreed. His mouth was around Sirius, and the vibrations of sound caused Sirius to moan. Remus chuckled at the reaction, and the vibrations of his laughter were even more intense. Sirius couldn’t resist the urge to thrust up into the warm, wet mouth. Remus braced his hands on either side of Sirius’s hips and shifted the angle of his head. Suddenly Sirius was in deeper than he had ever imagined possible. It was all too much, and he felt the waves of pleasure as he came inside Remus’s throat. 

Remus drew his mouth away, but no sooner had Sirius whimpered at the anticipated loss of contact then Remus began to lick the length of the still erect cock. If Remus hadn’t swallowed all of the semen, Sirius would have imagined that Remus was licking him clean. Sirius slipped his hand inside the collar of the sweater that Remus still wore.

“You’re wearing too much,” Sirius said with a smile. He opened his eyes as Remus knelt back on his heels. Remus had a slightly smug smile as if he knew that he had given Sirius the best the blowjob of his life. “Wow,” Sirius stated as his eyes closed again. He needed a moment—just a moment—and then he’d do something about the fact that Remus was still fully clothed. He still felt a bit nervous about reciprocating, but he felt so good that he was ready to try anything. 

He felt Remus move off the mattress, undoubtedly to disrobe. He opened his eyes to watch—just in time to see Remus go into his own room and close the door.

Remus cast a locking charm on the door. It was a simple one, but it was enough to tell Sirius to stay out. He leaned back against the door and rubbed his hand over his cock. He was achingly hard. He fumbled with his belt, desperate to touch himself. When their beds stood side by side in the dormitory, he’d heard Sirius pant and moan as he brought himself to orgasm. He hadn’t been able to resist stroking himself then either. But hearing him tonight, and knowing that he himself was making Sirius feel that good, he’d come so close just from the sounds. And the scent. And the taste. 

“Remus?” Sirius knocked softly on the door. “What’s wrong? Why did you leave?”

Remus kept his eyes closed, focusing on Sirius’s scent and the taste of his skin. He didn’t need to stroke hard, just enough to imagine that he was sliding against Sirius’s skin.

“Moony? Talk to me. Please?”

“Go away.” It came out harsher than he meant it to, but he was so close, too close to explain. He remembered the feel of Sirius thrusting into his mouth, of Sirius wanting him. Remus stifled a cry as he came all over his hand and belly. He slid down the door and sat leaning against it.

He didn’t feel as good as he should. He’d heard the worry in Sirius’s voice. He needed to explain why he’d left so abruptly. Sirius was probably brooding. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised to find a large furry ball just outside his door right now. _“Padfoot can smell me,”_ Remus realized. He cast a cleaning charm on himself to remove all traces of semen. It would be hard enough to explain his choice to leave when he did without it being obvious that he’d resorting to wanking off.

 _“Leaving was the right choice,”_ Remus assured himself as he refastened his clothing. If he’d stayed in Sirius’s bedroom, in Sirius’s bed, for one more moment, Sirius would have felt obligated to reciprocate in some fashion, and that was the last thing Remus wanted. The spectre of Alex Vraci still hung over him. He could only imagine how disgusted Alex had been by the things he’d done with Remus. Remus couldn’t bear ever giving Sirius cause to feel the same. By encouraging Sirius to close his eyes, and by discouraging Sirius from touching him, he’d given Sirius tacit permission to fantasize that he was with a woman instead. There was no way for Sirius to continue to pretend if he actually had to touch Remus.

Remus climbed to his feet carefully—his knee had bothered him since his last transformation and kneeling on the bed had aggravated it—and released the locking charm on the door. Sirius was indeed brooding, but he was still human and in front of the fireplace instead of the door.

“I hate that door,” Sirius growled without taking his eyes off the glowing coals. Remus came closer and sat on the floor beside Sirius. “You said no more silences, but every time something goes wrong, you either lock yourself in there or leave the house altogether.” 

“I’m sorry. I just needed to be alone for a few minutes.”

“I shouldn’t have pressured you into doing that. Do you hate me?”

“Of course not, Padfoot.” Sirius was still staring into the fire, and Remus knew that humour was usually the best way to jolt Sirius out of brooding. He put an arm around Sirius’s shoulders. “I must like you at least a little bit. After all, I did swallow, didn’t I?”

Sirius smiled. “Lydia Bagshot.”

“Pardon?”

“Wouldn’t swallow. Other than her aversion to the taste, she was quite good at it. Nowhere _near_ as good as you, but at the time, I was impressed.”

“I can do better. I figured after a decade and a half of celibacy, you didn’t require _all_ the bells and whistles.”

“Oh? _Please_ tell me we’re doing this again.”

Remus pretended to consider for a moment. “Well, since I don’t have a Christmas present for you yet—”

“Forget it,” Sirius said abruptly. “I shouldn’t have asked.” He turned his head to look at Remus. Half of his face was bathed in the ruddy light of the fire, and half was lost to shadow. His eyes looked deep into Remus’s own, something Sirius rarely did as he knew of the wolf’s aversion to staring. He seemed to looking for— _something_. “Why did you leave the room?”

“You—uh—got me a bit ‘hot and bothered,’ and I,” Remus shrugged, “had to take care of the situation.”

“That’s generally a reason to _stay_ in bed with someone, not to leave.”

“I didn’t want to involve you.”

“Why? I thought you still felt _something_ for me. I’ve felt the way you touch my skin at night when you think I’m asleep. And sometimes you kiss my hair, but you wouldn’t even kiss me tonight, and you wouldn’t let me touch you.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“I tried to kiss you, didn’t I?”

“What do you want, Sirius? Really?”

Sirius turned back to looking at the fire. He was silent for several moments, and Remus wondered if he would ever answer the question.

“I know that I only sleep soundly when you’re beside me,” Sirius said at last, “and I know that I like how it feels when you touch me. What do I want? I want you to spend the night with me without our needing the excuse of my nightmares. I want to be able to touch you the way you touch me. I want to know what it feels like to kiss you. But most of all,” he looked at Remus with a smile, “I want to get off this floor because it’s really cold when you’re only wearing a shirt.”

“Yes, you do look a bit cold,” Remus observed as glanced down at Sirius’s crotch. “To bed?” 

Sirius stood up and extended a hand to Remus to help him up as well. Sirius returned to his bed without releasing Remus’s hand, as if he were afraid that Remus would leave again if he let go. “I need my hand back if I’m going to get undressed,” Remus pointed out.

Sirius got under the covers, shivering a bit at the sensation of cold sheets, and propped his head up with a hand beneath his chin while he watched Remus remove his sweater and trousers. When Remus climbed into bed wearing his vest and boxers, Sirius observed, “You’re still wearing too much clothing.”

“Ready for another go already, are you?”

“Just want to see you.” Sirius’s hand was already cupped around the side Remus’s throat as Remus lay down beside him. He copied Remus’s earlier actions, stroking the line of his jaw and across his lips. “Am I allowed to kiss you now?” In answer, Remus closed the distance between them and kissed Sirius. 

The kiss was tentative, cautious, as if Remus was still worried about Sirius’s reaction despite Sirius’s words. But Sirius enjoyed their first kiss anyway. Physically, it was no different than kissing a girl. Emotionally, it was better. Sirius had cared about his former girlfriends, but he’d not been under any illusion that he loved any of them. But Remus, he’d loved Remus as a friend for most of his life. It was nice to kiss someone he loved. Sirius tried to kiss him again, intending to deepen the kiss this time, but Remus pulled back and looked at him searchingly.

“Will you promise me something, Padfoot?”

“Of course.”

“Promise me you won’t do _anything_ with me because you think it’s what I want. I only want to go as far as you want to go. I’d rather have this be the most one-sided sexual relationship in history than have you do something that makes you uncomfortable.”

Sirius was tempted to say that he was “up for anything” or some other pathetic attempt at humour, but the truth was, he _was_ nervous about certain acts—especially after Padfoot’s last romp with the wolf—and Remus wouldn’t believe him if he didn’t admit it. Remus wanted assurance that Sirius knew his own boundaries and would abide by them. So, he nodded. “I promise, _if_ you promise me something. No more running away instead of talking to me.”

“I think I can do that.”

 

January 1996

“I miss the kids.”

“They only left yesterday.”

“I know, but the house is so _quiet_ without them.” Sirius pushed aside his half-eaten dinner, leftovers of Molly’s cooking, and propped his feet up in front of the kitchen fire.

“After a few weeks with Fred and George, a nightclub would sound quiet.”

“I like them.”

“I knew you would.”

“I like all of Harry’s friends. He’s really got good people around him, doesn’t he?”

“Starting with his devastatingly handsome godfather.”

Sirius looked over at Remus and flashed him the smile that had melted the hearts of many young ladies at Hogwarts. “Well, if I’m devastatingly handsome, perhaps you should seduce me.”

“Perhaps I will, but not here.”

“Why, Mr. Moony, don’t tell me you’ll only have sex in the bedroom.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Padfoot. Kitchen tables are quite suitable; however, I’m not fond of locations where Kreacher is likely to walk in on us.”

“Bugger Kreacher.”

“I’d rather not.”

Sirius laughed. “Poor word choice. But really, do you care if we shock that little toe-rag?” As he spoke, he walked around the table to Remus, pushed his empty plate aside, and sat on the table with his feet on Remus’s chair, straddling him. He’d chosen to wear a pair of Remus’s Muggle jeans today just to enjoy the way Remus’s eyes kept following him everywhere.

“No.” Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’s waist and pulled him closer. “But you should consider that he won’t approve, and if he doesn’t approve, he’ll mutter about it, and if he mutters about it, everyone who sets foot in this house will hear about it.” Remus inclined his head and rubbed his nose against Sirius’s crotch, inhaling his scent. When he looked up again at Sirius, it wasn’t hard to imagine the wolf behind his eyes. “Here? Or upstairs?”

“Upstairs,” Sirius answered immediately. He wasn’t quite ready to risk Snape discovering from Kreacher that he’d joined the ranks of the shirt-lifters. 

Remus left the kitchen without waiting to see if Sirius would follow. The full moon was tomorrow, and he was the alpha of their tiny pack. He trusted his packmate to follow where he led.

No sooner had Sirius locked the bedroom door then Remus had him up against the wall. He was kissing him so hard that Sirius thought they’d draw blood. One of Remus’s hands held Sirius’s hand pinned to the wall above his head, and the other was desperately yanking Sirius’s shirt out of the waistband of his jeans. Even through the many layers of clothing, Sirius could feel Remus’s erect cock grinding against his own.

“Not nice to tease me like that,” Remus murmured as he moved on to grazing his teeth against Sirius’s jaw and throat, “especially tonight. _God_ , I want to fuck you.”

Even if Sirius had been ready, he knew he wasn’t ready for the way it would be tonight. Tonight, Remus was almost more wolf than human. But since he was dealing with the wolf, Sirius wasn’t sure he still had a choice. He slid his hand between them to stroke against Remus and reassure him that no, he wasn’t teasing this time, even as he said, “Not yet. Anything else.”

“I _know_ ,” Remus gritted out through his teeth. He slid his hands under Sirius’s sweater and swept it upward. He resumed kissing Sirius hungrily even as he tugged at the buttons on Sirius’s shirt. Sirius heard at least two skitter across the bare floor. “I know,” Remus murmured again as he began to lick and kiss his way down Sirius’s chest and belly. “Just _want_ you.”

They’d come close just a few nights previously. After engaging in the human equivalent of canine seduction—“rimming” Remus had called it—Remus had taken advantage of Sirius’s still very canine positioning to rub his cock between the cheeks of Sirius’s ass. He must have noticed the way Sirius tensed, for he had immediately reassured him that he wouldn’t go in.

Remus was now on his knees before Sirius, and trying to unfasten his belt. Sirius took over unfastening his jeans while Remus rubbed his cheek against Sirius’s inner thigh and breathed in his scent. 

Sirius managed to get his jeans and boxers pushed down as far as his knees. Sirius couldn’t help but think that he looked ridiculous. Trapped inside his own clothing and cock sticking straight out like he was riding a small broomstick. At least when one was erect and laying down, one’s cock lay along the belly, was a part of you. Of course, it didn’t look ridiculous sticking out when it was disappearing into Remus’s mouth. He loved watching that. He looked down at Remus and saw the hungry way Remus was staring at him—staring at him, but not touching him.

“Moony?” Sirius combed his fingers through Remus’s hair. Remus looked up at him with the same predatory glint he’d seen in the kitchen.

“Fuck me,” Remus said.

They’d never done that either, but Sirius thought it couldn’t be that different from having sex with a woman. Perhaps he was a bit uncomfortable with the idea, but as he looked into Remus’s eyes and saw the desire, the hunger there, he knew he wasn’t uncomfortable enough to say, “No.” He nodded.

Remus was back on his feet in the blink of an eye. He kissed Sirius deeply again—only for a few moments—and headed for the bed, stripping off his clothes as he went. Sirius struggled to remove his boots so he could finish undressing and follow.

Remus already had the now familiar tube of lubricant in hand. Familiar because it made rubbing against one another oh so nice—and why, oh why, had Remus never informed the younger Sirius how nice it could make a simple handjob? Of course, lubricant was only part of the reason such simple stimulation was better now. The fact that it was Remus’s talented hands instead of Sirius wanking off alone in a cold bed made an even larger difference.

As Sirius crawled toward Remus on the bed, Remus reached beneath him and stroked a generous amount of lube onto Sirius’s achingly firm cock. The warmth of Remus’s hands had warmed the lube slightly, but it was still cool compared to the blood-engorged heat of his cock. The contrast made Sirius hyper-aware of the way Remus’s fingers were encircling and stroking him. As the encircling fingers stroked down firmly one last time and then released him, Sirius knew that he wanted to be encircled by heat. He wanted to be inside Remus.

Remus lay back underneath Sirius and wrapped his legs high around Sirius’s back. This surprised Sirius slightly. Somehow he’d always imagined that entering from behind—“doggy style,” appropriately enough—was the only position for anal intercourse. He was surprised, but pleased, that he would be able to see Remus’s face. 

Remus’s eyes hadn’t lost the feral gleam they’d had since Sirius had begun trying to tempt Remus in the kitchen. Sirius felt the same thrill he had the first time he’d ever seen the wolf’s eyes. The same thrill he’d felt as he bared his belly to the wolf and waited to learn if Padfoot would be accepted as a packmate, or attacked as a rival.

Remus guided Sirius’s cock into position and pressed against him. Sirius could feel the tip of his cock was pressed against Remus, against the puckered opening into Remus’s body, but it was just too tight. He pressed against Remus, but he couldn’t slide in. _“I was wrong,”_ he thought, _“it’s nothing like sex with a girl.”_

“Do it!” Remus ordered. 

“I can’t. You’re too—” but Sirius never got to finish what he was saying. Remus tightened his legs and thrust up against him. Suddenly, “too tight” was gloriously, wonderfully tight. Sirius gasped at how perfect it felt. “Oh…Moony.”

But he barely had a moment to enjoy it before Remus growled and rolled them both over so he was looking down at Sirius. Sirius realized they might have been naïve to think that the wolf would allow this. He’d made it clear during the full moon that he would mount his mate but not be mounted. Sirius was still nervous about the prospect, but not as much as he’d been only moments ago. He’d always loved the wolf—the fierceness, the untameable nature, the grace and purpose inherent in his every movement—and at this moment, he saw the wolf more clearly in Remus than he’d ever seen before. Whatever Remus wanted of him, he could have.

“Can’t,” Remus said as leaned down to graze his teeth along the side of Sirius’s throat.

“I know,” Sirius said as he turned his head and exposed his throat more fully. “Anything, Moony, anything you want.”

Despite their relative change of positions, it was still Sirius who was inside Remus. He expected that to change at any moment, but Remus’s lupine side seemed appeased as long as he was on top. As they found a mutual rhythm, Sirius thought he just might die of pure pleasure, and judging from the blissful expression on Remus’s face, the feeling was mutual. Remus slipped a hand between them, and Sirius could feel the knuckles of Remus’s hand stroking across his belly as Remus fisted his own cock in time to their rocking together. Sirius licked his palm and joined Remus in the stroking, their fingers entwined and Remus’s cock between their palms. 

Remus couldn’t seem to get enough of kissing and licking him, and Sirius responded in kind. He didn’t know which he loved more, the heat of Remus encircling him, or the way Remus seemed to need his kisses. Remus’s breathing shortened into pants, and suddenly Sirius felt the tight heat of Remus’s body squeeze around him even more tightly. Hot, slick semen spurted onto Sirius’s belly. He swiped his fingers through it and stoked it onto Remus’s cock before he even finishing coming. Remus moaned with pleasure, and Sirius was gone.

“Mmm,” Sirius opened his eyes slowly and saw Remus smiling down at him. Smiling, but with worry lines creasing between his brows. Sirius smiled back and closed his eyes again. “Whatever you’re worrying about, Moony, stop it.”

Remus lay down beside him and Sirius responded by turning on his side toward him and entangling their legs together. Remus began to place soft kisses all over his face. “I’m sorry,” Remus whispered between kisses. “I pushed you into that before you were ready.”

“No, I wanted to.” Sirius opened his eyes and saw from Remus’s still worried expression that he didn’t believe him. “Honestly, I would have said ‘No,’ if I didn’t. I said, ‘No,’ to the other way around didn’t I?” Remus nodded. “Although for a minute there, I had the impression that I wasn’t getting a choice.”

“You almost didn’t. I should have stayed away from you tonight—too close to the moon.”

“Bite your tongue. Tonight was the best yet.” Remus still looked doubtful, but not as worried. “And next time, after the full moon, I won’t say, ‘No,’ to the other way around.”

Remus began to shake his head. “No, you don’t have to—” 

“Remus, I _want_ to.” And he did. 

Maybe he wasn’t supposed to desire Remus, but he did. He maybe he was supposed to desire the “otherness” of women in sexual partners, but it had always been Remus’s “otherness,” his mix of human and lupine, that had intrigued him. _“I want to be with Remus, and Remus wants to be with me,”_ he thought. _“That matters more than all the supposed to’s in the world.”_

* * * * *

“Gorgeous,” Remus breathed as he trailed his fingers down Sirius’s bare arm. Sirius thought that perhaps Remus still imagined him as he once was, for “gorgeous” was an adjective that hadn’t applied to him in a very long time. He smiled ruefully and kissed Remus for saying it.

“Used to be. Now you, on the other hand, have improved with age.”

Remus laughed. “We might need to get you some glasses. I’m skinny, scarred, and going grey.”

“You aren’t skinny; you’re—wiry. You’re all muscle. And your scars are beautiful.” Sirius traced his finger along a particularly long one on Remus’s belly. He’d done that one sometime during the first year after he’d lost his friends. “They tell the story of how much you’ve been through, and that you’ve survived it all. They tell how strong you are. And as for the grey, I like it. It reminds me of your fur.” Sirius reached up to comb his fingers through the grey at Remus’s temple.

Remus was tempted to say something he shouldn’t, but he bit his lip and resisted. Sirius wanted to be his friend and his lover, but Sirius didn’t want to know that Remus was _in love_ with him. 

“Do you remember how much I loved to pet your fur when you were Padfoot?”

“Um-hmm,” Sirius murmured as he turned to spoon up against Remus’s belly. He liked having Remus’s arm around him while he slept. “I was a right whore for it too. I kept transforming and jumping up on your bed.”

“Your fur reminded me of your hair, the same glossy black.” Remus began to stroke Sirius’s hair as he spoke. “I was rather obsessed with your hair. I wanted to touch it so badly, but I knew I couldn’t. But when you were Padfoot, I was allowed to touch you.”

“I wish you’d told me how you felt,” Sirius said sleepily.

“You weren’t ready to hear it.”

“No, I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. You’re here now.”

 

April 1996

“Are you all right?” Remus asked as he closed the drawing room door behind him.

Sirius didn’t turn around; he continued to stare out the window at the street and the muddy square. “Dumbledore send you to check on me?”

“No, I was just worried.” Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius and rested his head on his shoulder. “The meeting’s breaking up now.”

“I’m sorry that I bolted before it was over.”

“It’s all right. Snape was riding you pretty hard.” Remus held Sirius a bit tighter and placed a kiss on the side of his throat.

“He’s right. You wouldn’t have to do more than your share of risky missions if I were doing my share.”

“We’re all doing as much as we can, no more and no less. Look at me.” Sirius allowed the curtain to fall closed, turned reluctantly, and wrapped his arms around Remus. “Dung and I are doing this because we’re the best suited. Wards and security spells are my specialty, and Dung knows more about sneaking into people’s homes than all the rest of us combined. Even if you didn’t have to stay here, it would still be Dung and I doing this reconnaissance, not you.” Sirius nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. “And since when did you start listening to Snivellus?”

Sirius smiled a bit at Remus’s use of the nickname. It was rare for Remus to use it, so Sirius knew it had been for his benefit. He kissed him and then asked, “Why do you put up with me?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a good kisser,” Remus pushed the black fringe back and out of Sirius’s eyes, “or maybe because you know how to do that cute puppy-eyes thing even when you’re—”

In the half second between the click of the door handle and the door’s opening, Sirius had pushed Remus away and taken a step back. When Dung poked his head into the room, they were a discrete distance apart, just two friends having a chat.

“There’s something I need to go do, but I’ll be back by seven,” Mundungus promised. “I’ll pick up some of that curry you like, Sirius, and the three of us can have dinner before Remus and I go back out.” Sirius nodded, and Mundungus pulled the door shut again.

Remus’s eyes were averted from Sirius, and he headed for the door as well. “I should get ready for tonight—notes to look over.” 

Sirius had spent years learning to read Remus Lupin, and the fact that Remus was upset and trying not to show it did not escape his notice. The cause was easy to deduce. Between the moment they’d kissed and now, Sirius had only done one thing.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

“No, it’s fine,” Remus said. He smiled back at Sirius as he paused before opening the door. “Dung was coming in the room.”

“I thought it might be Snape,” Sirius explained.

“Even more embarrassing. He’s probably prepared an entire scroll of insults calling you my ‘bitch’ and the like, and is just waiting for the opportunity to—”

“I’m not embarrassed about this, about us,” Sirius insisted as he quickly crossed the floor and reached out for Remus’s hand.

Remus smiled sadly. “It’s all right, really. Remember me, so far in the closet that even you and James didn’t know? I can understand that we need to be discrete.”

“I’m tired of ‘discrete’,” Sirius grumbled. “I just don’t want Snape to know.”

Remus smiled in amusement. “Trust me; you have three choices. You can tell no one—effective but isolating. You can tell everyone—and be prepared for the consequences. Or you can tell a very small number and swear them to secrecy. But you cannot tell ‘everyone’ except one person; it won’t work.”

“Snape might tell Harry.”

“See. You’re already up to two people you don’t want to know about us,” Remus pointed out.

“No, I just don’t want Snape to be the one who tells Harry. I should.” 

Remus didn’t answer. He merely stared at Sirius in surprise. Sirius realized that he might have gone a step too far again. He had to stop assuming that Remus wanted whatever he wanted and making decisions that affected both of them. He looked down at their clasped hands and rubbed his thumb over Remus’s hand. “Unless you don’t want me to,” Sirius added. 

“No, I—you’re sure? You want to tell Harry about us?”

Sirius looked up warily through his fringe of dark hair. “I know he might not react well, being raised by people only slightly more open-minded than my own dear parents, but I don’t want to keep us a secret from him. It’s bad enough that we can’t tell him about the prophecy until he improves at Occlumency, but another secret on top of that—”

“What are we?”

“What do you mean?”

“Before you tell him about ‘us,’ you need to define what ‘we’ are. He’ll ask.” 

Sirius shrugged. “Well, I love you, and you love me. We are whatever that makes us.” 

Remus stared in surprise again. Being in love was momentous, relationship-defining, relationship- _changing_. Nothing was ever the same again after those words were said, and so Remus had never dared say them. Trust Sirius to do the unexpected and say it as if it were an accepted matter of fact. Remus must have been silent a moment too long, for Sirius began to look worried again.

“You do love me, don’t you, Moony?”

Remus nodded, and Sirius beamed. Remus could think of no other word for it. Sirius’s emotions were as changeable as the weather, and his face reflected it all. Sirius’s happy smile lit up his entire face, and Remus basked in the warmth of it. Remus smiled back and held Sirius’s hand tighter.

“You should smile like that more often, Moony. It looks good on you.”

 

June 1996

Remus wandered around the room looking at the photos, touching the glass over this one and then that. Ginny’s brothers had given her a camera for Christmas, and she had taken numerous photographs during the Christmas holiday. Upon her return to school, her friend Colin had taught her how to develop the film. She’d sent copies of many of them back to Sirius and Remus via her parents. Sirius had framed each and every one and put them in their bedroom. These were the only recent photographs he had of Sirius. 

And if he had given in to his temptation to destroy all his photos of Sirius back in 1981, they would have been his only photos of Sirius at all. In the end, he’d only spared most of the photos of Sirius because so many of them had James or Peter in them as well. He’d merely packed them away and didn’t look at them again until the letter from Hagrid had arrived.

Just as in the old photos, these photos all showed Sirius surrounded by others. Sirius playing chess with Ron while Harry looked on and Hermione peeked over the edge of her book trying not to look interested. Sirius teaching Fred and George how they had turned the Slytherin common room into a swamp their fifth year. Sirius as part of the crowd surrounding the table bearing Molly’s Christmas feast. Sirius was a social person; he had needed to be surrounded by friends. Remus believed that the greatest tragedy of his friend’s brief life was how often he had been alone.

Remus picked up the photo of himself with Sirius, Tonks, and Dung. It was the closest he had to a photo of just the two of them. “Just one of Sirius’s friends,” he said. “Just one of the crowd.” He wanted a photo of the two of them. It seemed so unfair that somewhere in the files of the Ministry of Magic, there was a photograph in which he was kissing Alex Vraci, but the only photo of Sirius and himself which even came close—in which a slightly intoxicated Sirius had pulled a very embarrassed looking Remus onto his lap at James and Lily’s wedding and kissed him on the cheek—he had torn into small pieces and burned years ago.

Remus put the photo back down on the bedside table and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. It was time to go feed Buckbeak.

 

_—Written February 2004_


End file.
